


The Long Way Home

by Sirifel



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Ben Solo Cries During Sex, Canon Compliant, Dark Rey, F/M, Finn and Ben are bffs eventually, Fix-it fic, Fluff, Force Bond (Star Wars), Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Oral Sex, Palpatine's not done yet, Possession, Resurrection, Reunion, Reylo - Freeform, Smut, Soulmates, break-up but it's okay it's only temporary, coping with trauma and depression, dubcon, first-time sex, kinda rough sex, longfic, relationship drama, sap, seriously I have the happiest ending planned don't worry, slow burn with past relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-20 01:16:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 73,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22073974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sirifel/pseuds/Sirifel
Summary: With its puppet master gone, the First Order is crumbling as the galaxy rises up, but for Rey, the last Jedi, the fight ended beneath Palpatine's throne. Now she is struggling to find her own path... until, on the sands of Tatooine, she hears a call.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 78
Kudos: 107





	1. With Me In My Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started plotting this fanfic in December of 2018. It all built off of one single scene I’d had in my head for a while before that, inspired by an old piece of reylo fanart. (I’ll let you know when we get there). I decided to wait to write it until after Episode 9, wanting to keep everything canon compliant. Optimist that I am, I was almost completely sure that Reylo would happen and that Ben Solo would live, so my original outline relied on that, starting with a fiery romance that falls apart due to their respective mental health issues. I wanted to tell a story about learning to live with depression and the lasting effects of trauma and use those things to set up a slow-burn-with-past-relationship scenario.
> 
> I’m still going to do that. I just have to make it work from where TROS left us.
> 
> Chapter title from “Here Without You” by 3 Doors Down
> 
> -
> 
> Chapter edited: 2/17/21
> 
> -

She is alive. She is breathing and moving and she is alive. She is saying his name, his true name, and smiling like he has never seen her smile before. Then, before he knows what's happening, she is kissing him, and in that moment the universe is so bright and full of bliss that he forgets the pain of his wounds and the reeling of his shattered mind. He forgets, in that moment, the crushing weight of his choices. He forgets, almost, that this is the end.

Death comes gently, kindly, a numbing of his aching limbs and a fading of his vision. A slipping away of his thoughts, one by one. The last thing he feels is Rey's hand on his. He does not feel himself fall.

Death is light and noise—a hushed rumble that begins meaningless and then defines itself into separate voices. Much of the chatter is too distant and overlapping to discern, but as his thoughts order and reorder themselves, some of it begins to stand out. There are clearer voices, familiar voices, and the closest of them is the one he knows more intimately than any other. _Mother,_ he wants to say, but he finds himself voiceless. 

_“Ben,”_ her voice calls, and again, _“Ben, my son,”_ and instinctively he tries to reach for her. He tries with everything left in him, though he cannot feel his own body in this void. _“Come home,”_ she insists. _“It’s time._ ”

He is ready. He is ready to go to her, to go home, but something is holding him back. He fights it. There is nothing he knows better than how to fight, but he is nothing here, and slowly, agonizingly, his mother’s voice fades away.

As she goes, so does the light. 

Death is darkness, but it is not oblivion. Ben expected this much, and nonetheless it disappoints him. There had been so much Light in his final moments, and more after. He had felt it surrounding him, caressing him. He had breathed it in, been one with it, but the only Light left is that which is inside him now. The rest, it seems, has stayed behind with Rey or gone on ahead with his family.

He can't begrudge them for it. Certainly not Rey. Rey who deserves nothing but Light. Rey who deserves light and peace and a galaxy's worth of kindness, and _stars_ is he sorry for ever having a hand in taking those things away from her. Yet still, although he does not begrudge her, he had hoped that in death, at least, he too would be free of the Dark.

  
The Darkness feels the same as he has always known it, if a bit riled up after the death of its long-time servant, Palpatine—stirred into a frenzy by the loss of its mortal manifestation. It seethes around Ben, poking and prodding, slithering over his consciousness in its eternal search for a way in. He knows its tricks, it's whispers, and he shuts them out. Rey would not want him to fall, and so he does not. He _will_ not. The Dark is generous and it is patient, and some would tell you that it always wins, but Ben Solo knows better. Ben knows true and selfless love, and he knows how it outshines even the brightest of stars.

Ben knows not what has separated him from the souls of his family nor why he can only barely feel the thread that yet binds him to his soulmate, but he is one with the Force now and the Force will do with him as it wills. 

For that and for Rey, he will endure.

-< >\- 

The flowers on Tatooine are different from the ones on Jakku, but in some ways they are the same. Here are the thin, hard branches with spines or tough leaves. Here are the bright succulents rich with the water that is so scarce all around them. She takes samples when she knows the plant can survive the damage—one flower from a cluster, or one petal if there is only one flower. She tucks them between the pages of a book and takes the time to write notes around them and sketch an image of the plant from which they came. It had not been the easiest thing to find a book with real paper pages, let alone a blank one. Rey had commissioned hers, asking around the base at Ajan Kloss and calling up her contacts at Black Spire until she found someone who knew someone who could get the right materials, and someone else who had the skill to put them together. She had begun her collection with the flowers that grew around the Resistance base, delicate things that thrived in the forest. Next she had come here—come to Tatooine—and started again.

The flowers are different and so is the sand. It is a subtle thing. Anyone who does not know deserts as well as she does would probably never notice. The sand on Jakku is more crystaline, hard little grains with sharp corners that scratch at skin and eyes. Tatooine's sand is a soft powder, lighter and thus more prone to being caught up in gusts of wind, but gentler. Kinder, as much as any desert can be kind.

It has been days since she came here. A week, perhaps. She will leave again soon. She does not know when, but she knows it will happen.

The Falcon makes a comfortable home, quite a bit more spacious than her old AT-AT. Back at the Resistance base, after the battle, she had tried to insist that Chewie keep it. There were other ships she could take. He had refused, however, explaining that it would not be the same. He did not want to be alone on Han's ship. Rey understands. She might have felt the same way, even, except that she is never alone. Not anymore. 

The Falcon is a good home, but she is in it only long enough to put her flower journal away and refill her canteen. Then it's back out into the sand, into the blaze of the twin suns, and down the dusty slope to where she has arranged her training circle. It isn't much—a patch of sand swept smooth and a circle of fist-sized rocks to mark its border. She doesn't need even this much, really, but it helps her concentrate. It helps her find the right mindset to achieve something resembling proper meditation.

It helps her feel like she has some small control over the world around her.

It isn't logical, or it shouldn't be. She has the Force, after all, and many would say that there is no greater mastery over one's reality than that. The Force, however, has never felt like hers. It is not like the strength of her arms or of her voice. It is like a fire—a power of its own that she can use, but only if she is careful. Training to use the Force, she has come to realize, is not just about strength. The Force either gives her the power to do something or it doesn't. Practicing a trick or technique with the Force does not make the same difference that practicing a physical skill does. Rather, training in the Force is about refining discipline, concentration, and compartmentalization. Rey possessed all of these skills before, necessary as they were for survival on Jakku. Now, when she trains, it is not to see what she can do, but to see what she can't. The Force is more powerful than she had ever imagined. Too powerful, she often thinks, and it is not that she doesn't want that power—not exactly. It's that she doesn't know what to do with it. She has already defeated Palpatine. She has balanced the Force... or else she is going to, or... That part really hasn't been explained to her well enough, if she's honest, but the point is that the galaxy is at peace, or better off than it was, and Rey doesn't know what to do with herself now.

"Be with me," she murmurs as she sits cross-legged at the center of her circle.

"Be with me," she pleads as she lifts herself up, up, higher off the ground than she is tall.

"Be with me," she says as the circle of stones rises around her.

 _"You know you don't need me here,"_ comes the voice of her second master. _"Or any of us, for that matter. You're doing fine on your own."_

Rey knows that if she opens her eyes, she will see Leia, limned in blue and probably wearing that sardonic smile of hers. She doesn’t bother looking. "I'm glad you think so, but I like having you here."

 _"You can't rely on me forever, Rey."_ But Leia stays in spite of this warning, and for Rey that's all that matters.

Meditation has not been an easy skill to learn. Survivalist that she is, Rey doesn't like to give up any awareness of her surroundings. She has learned how to, though, slow and painstakingly, and while she is bad at disconnecting, she is very good at being patient.

Some days, she reaches inward. Today, she reaches out. She reaches out and the darkness behind her eyelids turns to light, to webs of the Force aglow with life. She sees the threads that bind every creature, every blade of grass, and bridge even the vast empty gaps between worlds. Rey follows the light with a purpose, hunting, chasing, searching. She strains to sense some sign, some call, some beacon to guide her way, but the Force is everywhere, a million paths in every direction, and none feels more or less right than the one beside it, or the one beside that.

When she comes back to herself, the suns have sunk low in the sky. "I think I got farther this time."

 _"You did,"_ says Leia, who still stands right where Rey knew she would be. _"I felt you."_

The girl tries to smile at her master, to be proud of herself, but it fades quickly. "I still can't find him."

_"Rey..."_

"I know. I know you've been looking too. I know if he was out there, you'd have found him by now..."

_"Not necessarily."_

Slowly then, imagining the way a feather or a scrap of thin fabric falls, Rey drifts downward until her feet touch the ground. She can't bring herself to look at Leia. They’ve had this conversation before. "I'm going to go find something to eat."

The ghost gives no answer. When Rey looks back, it is to find herself alone.

But she is never alone.

The Falcon is well-stocked. Her friends had made sure of that before she left. Still, being what she is, Rey has supplemented her supplies with food from the nearest settlement. She has been trading repair work for it as well as a bit of salvage. Scavenging is, after all, a skill she has trained in for most of her life, and why waste a skill?

For this evening's dinner she has bantha milk and a steak she picked up in town that tastes like it came from some sort of reptile. It's good. Balanced out with a little dried fruit from her travel supplies, it's a better meal than she ever had on Jakku.

When she's right in the middle of it, grease on her lips and head buzzing with pleasure, BB-8 trundles in from the cockpit and whistles.

She gulps down her mouthful half-chewed. "No, we're not leaving yet."

Another whistle.

"I'm sorry you're bored. It won't be forever."

An inquisitive beep, to which Rey smiles.

"Yes, I saw Leia today. She seems well. And yes, you can tell Artoo."

With a noise of contentment, the droid wheels himself around and rolls back up the corridor. He's been listening in on the comm for most of their time here, except for the days when Rey takes him into town or they go out exploring. She doesn't blame him, but she tenses up every time he appears, afraid to be told that the Resistance needs her again. It's too soon. She isn't ready for another fight of any sort, and for all that, as the last Jedi, she should be willing to answer the call regardless of her own desires, she isn't sure that she could. Or that she would.

And she doesn't know how to explain that to her friends.

They know about Ben, a little. She told them that he helped her in the end, that he gave his life to save her. She did not tell them about the kiss, or about the extent of their Force connection, and she did not tell them about her parents. She had wanted to, but... each time she tried, the words refused to come. She would try again eventually, but for now... for now perhaps it is best they don’t know.

If she is very, very lucky, her heritage will never matter again.

When dinner is finished, Rey reads. She had translated most of the Jedi books during the year after Crait, with help from 3PO and Beaumont, but there is a lot to review, especially given what she's learned since then. She spends the next couple hours with the Aionomica, squinting at faded diagrams and tiny script until her eyes hurt and she thinks she might be tired enough to sleep.

Always, Rey has been prone to nightmares, but they do not come every night. More often lately it has been something worse—something more insidious.

Tonight she is back on Exegol, blinking in the gloom, acutely aware of the hard stone beneath her. Tonight Ben is with her, as he is most nights. Tonight he lies prone on his back, limp except for his heaving chest and the hand still holding tight to hers. She remembers coming to in his arms, confused and then ecstatic. She remembers kissing him long and deep, kissing him like she's wanted to since that night in the hut on Ahch-To. She remembers the way he smiled. She remembers the softness of it. He has unmasked himself for her before, over and over again, and now the last layer is coming away. Now here is Ben. Here is the boy—the man—who she has tried for so long to reach, to find, to pull out of the darkness in which he has lain buried. Here he is at last, as she had known he would be, and even in this place built of and for pain, they rejoice.

It is only after he falls that she understands what has happened—both to him and to her. She remembers dizziness and pain and a bone-deep weariness like nothing she had known before, worse than the worst days on Jakku. She remembers blackness before Ben was there. She doesn't know how far gone she was, but it is clear to her that he's shared his lifeforce. She knows his Force signature better than she knows her own and she can _feel_ the way it courses under her skin, warming her veins. Even injured and exhausted as he is, he has given almost everything he has left to her. The realization brings fresh tears to her eyes.

"Ben..."

"Rey."

His eyes are closed, his breathing heavy, but the ghost of a smile still lingers on his face. She leans over him, close. She lifts a hand to stroke sweat-damp hair from his brow. Her fingertips leave a streak of blood in its place, but they are both so filthy and blood-drenched that it hardly makes a difference. "We need to get out of here."

His smile fades, the strain of the battle coming back to him, but he does not complain. With their hands gripped tight, he hauls himself up into a crouch, relying on her strength as much as his own. It is harder still to get him standing, but they manage together, and slowly, step by painful step, they leave the shadow of Palpatine for the last time.

Rey has many such dreams. Sometimes they are the same, sometimes the setting or scenario is different. Always, Ben Solo makes it out by her side.

Always, for the first few blurry moments of waking, she expects to find him beside her, solid and warm and alive.

She has grown accustomed enough to them now that she no longer succumbs to tears afterward or chokes on the lump in her throat. Now, on some mornings, she wakes hollow and empty as if she herself is a ghost. On others, her feet drag with a weight like a stone in her gut. Either way, she follows her routines without the benefit of hope or the push of enthusiasm. She exists to fulfill her purpose, to serve the Force in whatever way it asks of her. It isn't a life she ever wanted, but neither was anything that came before, so who is she to complain? She takes what the galaxy offers. She does what she must to survive. She lives for those who have left her. It is all she knows how to do.

Today she wakes, heavy and resigned. She straightens up her bed in the Falcon's crew quarters, puts back on the bits of her ensemble not suited for sleeping in, works the worst of the tangles out of her hair with her fingers and an old brush, and trudges off to the galley for breakfast. Thus begin the motions of another day.

Through the morning, she works a little on a vaporator she's been commissioned to repair and then on her own project—a new speeder lovingly fitting together from salvaged parts. With the gutted body of an ancient x-34 landspeeder, it is bigger than the one she had on Jakku, but when her modifications are finished, it will be an even smoother ride. The work is as mechanical figuratively as it is in the literal sense. She can lose herself in it, thinking only of the next step. The next piece. It is the best part of her day.

When enough progress has been made to satisfy her for the time being, she washes the oil off her hands, nibbles on a nutrient bar, checks in with BB-8 to be sure there is no new word from the Resistance, and then goes once more down to her meditation circle.

Today she does not call for company. Today she doesn't feel that she can face Leia or Luke and not burden them with every ounce of her sorrow. Even dead, they don't deserve that. Today she meditates alone. Levitation is a form of sensory deprivation. It lets her escape the distraction of the earth. She doesn't bother with the floating rocks this time. Today she has no care for testing her limits or for showing off. Today she is trying something new.

The spiderweb of Force is there, just as it was yesterday and the day before, but this time she does not choose a bright line to follow. This time she looks to the darkness between. The Force is everywhere, even in the spaces that seem at a glance to be empty. It is not as easy, and she wonders how hard it will be to find her way back, but setting her fear aside, it is into one of these between-spaces that Rey ventures this time. Sending her consciousness out amid the stars feels like flying a ship. Today she flies the paths less charted.

When she returns hours later, there is company, though she has not asked for it.

 _"You felt something."_ It is Luke's gruff tenor. She spins herself around in the air to see him standing behind her, so solid today that she can barely make out the sand-scratched ground behind his transparent form.

"I think so."

_"Stop doubting your senses. What did you feel?"_

"A pull." That isn't quite right, though. She tries to recall the feeling, but it was faint to begin with and is already slipping from her memory. "A beacon. A cry for help?"

 _"Don't ask me,"_ Luke chides. _"It's your feeling."_

"It felt like..." She closes her eyes again. She doesn't want to hope, for surely it is something else, something unrelated, but hope has always come too easily. "It felt like a hole, or a wound. Like something missing. I don't know."

_"So you went out to where the universe is most devoid of life and you found something emptier."_

"Something like that..." They still are not quite the right words to describe what she had sensed, but she is starting to doubt that the right words exist.

_"So what are you going to do about it?"_

Rey unfolds herself and descends from her thin-air perch. "I guess I should follow it."

Luke's mouth quirks upward in a smirk that makes him look very much like his sister. _"I don't see any other Jedi around. No live ones, anyway."_

It takes an effort not to roll her eyes, but there are bigger things on her mind than Luke's morbid sense of humor. "Do you think I should leave now?"

The ghost shrugs. _"Now. Tomorrow. Next week. It probably won't make a difference, but then again, it might."_

It is no less infuriating than it ever was, his vagueness, but Rey is on her way to becoming used to it. "Then I guess I'll leave now. It's not like I'm busy."

The twist to his lips becomes a full grin. _"That's the spirit. And Rey, just this once… ignore any advice I gave you the first time we met."_

With that cryptic clue, he is gone, leaving Rey more baffled than she had been before she spoke to him. Regardless, she has a mission now—a purpose—and she wastes no time in packing up and loading her belongings, unfinished speeder and all. The last thing she does on the sands of Tatooine is to return the repaired pieces of the vaporator and collect her pay. The only sign of her stay that she leaves behind is the circle of stones. She has no intention of returning.

BB-8 whirrs curiously when she strides at last into the cockpit. 

"Yes. We're going." The droid's joyful trill hurts her ears, but she smiles anyway. "I don't know where yet. The Force will guide us."

BB wobbles back and forth as he emits a series of rapid chirps, as if a droid could be too full of energy to sit still.

"Yes, you can still stay with me. It's nice to have company." She slides into the pilot's seat and starts the power-up sequence, checking over her shoulder to see that her friend has wiggled himself into a corner. Being the shape that he is, turbulence can be risky for everyone present. He gives her his version of a thumb's up, signaling that he is secure, and she takes the ship up slow, letting the sand fall away in whispering showers before she retracts the landing gear. Then, as it did for the first time just over one standard year ago, the Millennium Falcon carries her away from desolation and into the stars.


	2. A Vision Softly Creeping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from “The Sound Of Silence” by Simon and Garfunkel
> 
> -
> 
> Chapter edited: 2/17/21
> 
> -

Alone in the dark, Ben sits, legs crossed, hands on knees, head bowed. In death, his body is merely a manifestation of his soul, malleable and unnecessary, but he prefers to keep his old shape. A defined form makes him feel stronger, more real, more himself. It is a shield against the whispers and the clawing hands. It is a reminder of what he is and of who he used to be.

Alone in the dark, Ben builds a fortress of thought. Of willpower. It is a technique Luke taught him when he was a child, a trick to block out the Dark Side. It had served him as best it could until that fateful night. It had helped him resist Snoke and Palpatine for as long as he had, all those years alone even when he wasn't, standing behind a thin wall of defiance, denying every lie and doubt sowed by the voices in his head. All those years, it had been his greatest defense, the shield behind which he waited and hoped and tried to be stronger than the Darkness which ceaselessly plagued him. If not for Luke's betrayal, he might have held out long enough. Long enough to learn. Long enough to trust. Long enough for his uncle or his mother or someone to understand what was happening to him.

There is no use reflecting on it now. At least, small favor that it is, the technique seems to work just as well for the dead. 

Alone in the dark, Ben watches, studying the enemy that tries as it always has to control him. He knows the Dark Side of the Force. He knows what it wants and how it functions. He knows the difference between natural Darkness and that which is controlled by a self-aware entity. This is the latter. This is not a mindless force of corruption but a conscious effort to turn him. For all that he is alone, he is not the only one here, and if he wants to hold onto himself, he must learn what creature seeks his destruction.

  
-< >-

  
Rey has been awake for far too long, but the allure of the mystery is like spice in her veins. After Exegol, she had been desperate for a purpose, for a sign, and here it is. Or here it will be, when she finds it...

The trouble with letting the Force guide her in such a literal sense is that, while she has a general idea of direction, she does not know exactly in which system her goal lies, which means she cannot simply set a hyperlane route and relax while the autopilot does the job for her. Instead she must make short jumps, adjusting her course by the pull of the Force inside her. Now that she is locked onto her target, in a sense, it feels like a thread tied around her sternum, tugging persistently. To ensure she does not lose it, she has hung in a state of near-meditation for most of the journey, relying on reflex to fly the ship. It would be a deadly stupid thing to do if she were any less attuned to the Force than she is now.

Arriving at her destination to find it a place she has been before is less of a surprise than it ought to be. The waters of Kef Bir's ocean rage as the Falcon swoops under a gray blanket of clouds. From above, the wreckage of the Death Star reminds her of a great, grasping maw poised to pull her out of the sky. She wants very much not to look at anything that once belonged to the old Emperor, much less walk in his literal footsteps, but this is where the Force has summoned her. This is the purpose she seeks, whatever that may be. Turning back now would be worse than going forward.

She circles the crash site twice before finding a space wide and flat enough to land. Given the decaying state of the fallen station, she half-expects it to buckle under the Falcon's weight, but it holds.

"No, you don't have to come with me," she assures BB-8 when he beeps at her uncertainly. "You mind the ship. I'll try not to be too long." It's the best she can promise. She still isn't sure what brought her here.

Exiting the Falcon changes that. It is as if the metal walls had muffled the call and stepping into open air allows her to hear it more clearly. Or perhaps it is simply a matter of concentration and proximity. Either way, there is a strong sense of familiarity, all at once. She knows what waits here for her. She has been in its presence before, more than once.

It is a bit of a climb to get to a part of the ruins with a clear view of the water, but it's nothing she hasn't done before. The eroded durasteel creaks under her boots as she steps out onto an overhang, dizzyingly high above the stormy waves. The wind yanks her hair this way and that, making a mess of her tightly bound loops. The call comes from below—not simply lower within the ruins, but beneath the sea itself.

Not for long.

Rey reaches out with a hand and with the Force and it is almost too easy to find what she is looking for. The kyber knows her as well as she knows it. They've had many a tense encounter, yes, but they have been allies also. The crystal—the lightsaber—knows the feel of her grip and returns to it eagerly, surging out of the water and up, up, up to meet her, an abandoned creature desperate to be reclaimed. Its weight pressing into her palm releases the weight in her chest, letting her breathe easier despite the residue of Darkness that still clings to the object. This was a tool used for death and for cruelty, and yet it is a relief to hold it. It sparks in her a bitter joy to be with something that was his.

The cracked crystal sings to her, paints its story in her mind. It has been wounded and betrayed and beaten into submission, but it is coming back to life, coming out of its shell and flooding the void that had brought her here with presence and power and an almost human sense of regret. The harm it has done was never by its own choice. She can feel this as clearly as she can feel the sea-flecked breeze on her skin. The heart of Kylo Ren's dreaded weapon is still aware of what it was meant to be and who it was meant to serve. After everything it has been through, it is Ben Solo's lightsaber still.

Rey is tempted to ignite it just to see that fiery glow again, but she resists the urge. The thing had looked like it was about to explode on the best of days. Now it is full of seawater and in desperate need of maintenance and it would probably be a miracle if she didn't blow her hand off, or worse.

"It's okay," She says instead, and she does not feel silly talking to a laser sword. She has talked to stranger things. "I miss him too." 

The crystal responds to this, she thinks, but if so, it is subtle. Like her, perhaps, it needs time to adjust.

She is reluctant to take her hand off it, but she must in order to climb down. She reassures herself by double-checking it after she clips it to her belt beside her own new saber, then checking a third time before she makes the climb back down to the Falcon.

At the foot of the ramp, Rey takes one more look back over the ruins... the remnants of the planet killer, the Death Star, the site of Darth Vader's victory over his tyrant master. Thirty-one standard years later and it had served as the field of her last battle against Kylo Ren. Was it coincidence that had brought them back here, or was it fate, tied as they both were to the ones who came before? What game was the Force playing that it would repeat the same contest over and over again, and had they done enough, finally, to break that cycle?

Even now, after it all, she is not entirely clear on how much she should question the Jedi path and how much she is meant to blindly trust it. Luke has been characteristically vague, though he tries. She has talked to him more in the last week than she ever did when he was alive. He has told her about his crash course training under Yoda and Obi-Wan and how it was barely a fraction of what the Jedi Order would have taught him in its prime. With the books translated, Rey now knows more about the Order in its original form than Luke does, and that makes it worse. That leaves it up to her own interpretation.

She doesn't want to be the one in charge of this knowledge. She doesn't want to be the one who has to decide.

The scavenger from Jakku survived by trusting her instincts, but that was when only her own life hung on her choices. Savior of the galaxy she may be, but she feels far from ready to guide the next generation of Jedi. Regardless of her confidence or lack thereof, that seems to be what Luke and the Resistance expect of her, and why wouldn't they? There isn’t anyone else.

It has weighed on her mind at inopportune moments like this one ever since the battle of Exegol—no, even before then—but at least when the war was at its worst, there were more pressing matters to worry about. Now, without a fight to fight, she hunts shadows and broken lightsabers and as always she is too cowardly to let go of the past. It is easier to follow and to wait than it is to forge a new path, even when the only things left to follow are ghosts.

Rey shakes off her reverie as best she can and heads up into the belly of the Falcon, keeping a hand pressed tight to Kylo Ren's saber at her hip. BB-8 welcomes her and she manages a half-hearted response, but she keeps her eyes forward. Before anything else, she wants to leave this haunted ruin.

With only a little of its usual rocking and rattling, the old ship breaks through the gloomy sky and into the crisp, clean blackness of space. She locks it into high orbit and tasks BB-8 with watching the sensors, and only then does she retreat into the main hold with a toolbox and set herself to work on freeing the crystal from its scorched and murderous prison.

Traditionally, a Jedi did not touch their saber's components during construction or deconstruction. Part of the ritual was to use the Force. Rey, however, was never much for tradition, and she has always felt more comfortable working with her hands.

Here in her hands is Kylo Ren's lightsaber... She has been curious about it since that first day on Takodona. Even before she had seen other lightsabers to compare it to, even as it terrified her, this weapon had struck her as unique. Mechanically minded as she was, the unstable nature of it had confused her. What sort of creature was the man in the mask that he would rely on such a device when it might turn on him at any moment?

Even when she knew the answer to that question, and even when the saber was not being used against her, it had frightened her. It had frightened her, but it had also made her sad. There was a brokenness about it much like that which she had come to recognize in its master. They had been reflections of each other, and though she had not been able to save Ben Solo, she can at least try to save this part of him.

Taking the hilt apart piece by piece is easier than she expected, given the shoddy look of the thing. In fact, the farther she gets, the more she finds herself impressed. The construction of the device is more clever than it looks. What she had taken for poor design wasn't. In fact, it is precise and almost delicate. It has to be, she realizes, to compensate for the instability of the crystal. She feels a swell of pride followed immediately by sorrow. Even Bonded as they were, there had been so much of him she didn't know, and now she never will.

She has to set the hilt down for a moment to collect herself, swiping an arm across her eyes and sniffling. She isn't crying—not quite—but it's closer than she likes. She doesn't want to cry anymore. She's sick of tears. She is sick of their taste and their smell and the wet, itchy feel of them on her face. There is little she hates more than crying, she has decided, and she intends to do much less of it in the future.

The heart of the saber is dull and the color of rust when the last piece of casing comes away. A good rub with a cloth improves that, removing the tarnish from several days at sea. The crystal is quiet now and uneasy, but she feel a tentative sort of hope within it, or the closest thing a kyber crystal can feel to hope. It reminds her of Ben, of every time he opened up to her and dropped his wicked act. It reminds her of herself, too.

"Don't worry," she says, and her own words almost bring her to tears again. "I'll take care of you now."

Almost as soon as she begins the healing, though, Rey senses something wrong. The crystal seems to twist away from her, to wall itself off and rebuff the gift of her lifeforce. She pauses. She gives it a moment, thinking at first that it just hasn't recognized what she is trying to do. When she makes a second attempt, however, as gently as she can, the result is the same. The crystal won't let her heal it.

"Please. I'm trying to help..."

But Ben's cracked kyber only hardens its walls and shuts her out, going cold in the palm of her hand. 

Rey tries—she tries very hard—not to take it personally. The thing has been abused by its master as much as he was abused by his, but still, like her, it cares, and still it wants him back. If the crystal is not ready to let someone other than its own master help it, then what can she do but wait? They both need time. She understands that.

Even so, it hurts. It hurts with the bitter sting of inadequacy. She couldn't save Ben and she can't even do this, so what is the point of it all? What was the purpose of their connection—a dyad in the Force, as he called it—when Rey had been left to defeat Palpatine on her own? When Ben had been able to save her life but she couldn't do the same for him? Had they done something wrong? Was it meant to have gone differently? If their fates truly were arranged by fate and not by chance, then why had none of it seemed to matter in the end?

When her breath turns shaky, Rey puts the crystal down and focuses on calming herself, on trying to divert the downward spiral of her thoughts. Simple meditation has become her go-to technique since Leia taught her how, despite her lingering doubts about her own ability. She clears her head by thinking only of the here and now, focusing on the sound and smell and feel of the space around her. She identifies the rickety rumble of the engine and the higher hum of the life support system, the barely-audible buzz of the lights and the drone of the conservator. She notes the metallic smell of recycled air and the lingering musk of wookiee fur. She concentrates on the roughness of the worn upholstery beneath her and on the chill of space that the Falcon's old insulation can never quite keep out.

When she has just about packed everything away, tucking her feelings into the dark, ignorable corners where they belong, something new happens. It's the crystal, still resting where she set it on her work table. It is unfolding again, taking down its walls, singing to her again, and this time she does not touch it for fear of scaring it back into its shell, but she listens. She hears its song of darkness, of loss, of _being_ lost, and of a place... a place she recognizes. A place she knows. It dawns on her, as the crystal sings images into her mind, that it is not showing her its own memories, but hers. She knows not only the place but the time—the moment in her past from which the feelings are being drawn. She remembers what she saw there— _who_ she saw—and she knows where she has to go next.

She only hopes she hasn't waited too long.

The pieces of the dismantled lightsaber she wraps in a spare cloth and tucks away in one of the hold's storage compartments. The crystal she holds onto, digging through the Falcon's sometimes-eccentric supplies until she finds a spool of wire. Working quickly, anxious to get a move on but wanting to do this right, she winds the wire around and around the cracked crystal until she is sure it will not slip loose, twists the excess wire until it breaks, and then takes a bundle of thin black cord from another box and snaps off a length of it with her teeth. This she threads through the wire and ties around her neck. 

With Ben's crystal secure and close to her heart, she goes to the cockpit. 

Her next destination is about as far from Kef Bir as Kef Bir is from Tatooine, but this time she knows where she's going and she can set a straight course instead of making those tedious little pathfinding hops. As the stars spiral away into hyperspace blue, she asks BB-8 to alert her if anything comes up. Then she goes to try, at last, in spite of all her anxiety and grief and desperate hope, to sleep.

She does not remember her dreams.

-

Luke's island on Ahch-To looks nearly the same as she left it, with the exception of the spot where Kylo Ren's starfighter had burned. The wreckage has been cleared away completely, either disposed of or salvaged for parts, Rey assumes. The only traces are the scorch marks on the rocks, and those will wear away with time.

She leaves her staff behind, checks the saber at her belt, and discards her dangling cloth wrap. Where she plans to go, she will need the freedom of movement.

Exiting the Falcon, she takes one long look up toward the shrine at the top, then turns and heads down, following a familiar path to where the bare stone protrudes outward above the churning sea and the sigh of the wind sounds like a mourning cry. Here, Rey stops to take off her boots before walking to the edge of the circular hole in the ground, trying not to mind the cold sliminess of the moss between her toes. On her first time here, she had slipped and fallen. Now, when she fills her lungs and leaps into the darkness, it is by her own choice.

The fall is long and the water is cold, rushing up her nose and spurring her to flail upwards ungracefully, coughing when she breaks the surface. Brine stings her eyes, but even when she blinks it away and can see clearly, the cavern is dark. The light from above and from the seaward exit barely seems able to penetrate it, despite the day being sunnier than usual for Ahch-To. It is what she expected, though, and she surges ahead to the rocky shore as soon as she has her bearings.

She remembers the crystaline wall and how it gleams as if by a light from within. The temptation is to approach with meekness and pleading as she did once before, but she knows better now—or she hopes that she does. Instead of submission, she squares her shoulders, lifts her chin, places one hand on Ben's kyber crystal, and marches to meet the Dark.

"Where is he?" Rey demands, and raises a hand to the smooth, cool surface, noting how fast it warms to match the temperature of her palm. "I want to see Ben."


	3. Memories To Bury Or Live By

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from “Never Look Away” by Vienna Teng (I highly recommend her music. A lot of it fits Reylo, and all of it is good.)
> 
> -
> 
> Chapter edited: 2/17/21
> 
> -

  
"I want to see Ben," she says, and reality shifts around her.

It is not like the first time. The first time, when she disobeyed Luke and followed the call of the Dark, it was as if she had been sucked into her own reflection. Dreamlike as it was, she had still felt her physical self standing inside the mirror cave. 

Now, according to all of her senses, she is somewhere else entirely. She is bathed in sunlight, so bright after the gloom that everything around her is washed in white. Her eyes are slow to adjust, but when they do, she finds herself on a paved walkway between high rows of buildings. Even down here on the ground level, contrary to what she has assumed about big cities, everything is neat and clean and elegant. There are trees lining the street and flowerboxes in the windows. Some of the vividly painted homes are bordered by garden spaces. Several seconds after her vision has cleared, the vague white noise in her ears distinguishes itself into the separate sounds of a city. She whirls to look up at the roar of a skycar above her, at the hiss of a closing door to her left, at the buzz of voices behind... 

One moment, she is standing alone. The next, there is a crowd of pedestrians moving around her. They are as diverse a group of people as she has ever seen—men, women, and a variety of others, some with children, many not human, all of them dressed in clothing or adornment as vibrant and rich as the city around them. Some talk and smile and hold hands. Others stride with eyes forward and purpose in their steps. None of them stop for Rey or pay her any mind except to move around her if she is directly in their way.

Around and around she turns, searching for some clue as to where she is... and then she hears it.

"Come on, Ben."

The voice is smooth and melodious, starkly different from the way she remembers it, but she knows who it belongs to all the same. There is something unmistakable about it.

Pinpointing its source only confirms what she knows. There in the crowd moving around her walks Leia, nearly thirty years younger, dressed in a gown of cream and sepia with her chestnut hair in layered looping braids, nonetheless impossible to mistake. And there, holding tightly to her hand and hurrying on stubby legs, is her son, all giant ears and enormous eyes and the doll-like proportions of a toddler.

Rey's heart seems to skitter sideways in her chest. She had asked the mirror to show her Ben, but why had it brought her to this time and place? Why make her see him young and innocent, knowing what she knows about his fate? There is wretched cruelty in reminding her of what was lost, and yes, to be fair, the cave is a place of Darkness and she should have expected such cruelty, but it hits her hard even so.

"Honey, what is it?" Leia has stopped, because little Ben has stopped, straining back the way they came.

"Hello!" the child calls, and Rey follows his gaze, but the crowd is moving on and no one else looks back at the child.

"Who are you talking to?" Leia asks him, sounding torn between amusement and concern.

"My friend," Ben says, and something cold settles in the pit of Rey's stomach at those words. She is not sure if it is the Force warning her or just her own instincts, but she knows—all at once, she knows who Ben is looking for.

"Which friend?" asks Leia, scanning the crowd the same way Rey does. The boy doesn't answer. Perhaps he doesn't have the words to explain, as young as he is, or perhaps his ‘friend’ has told him not to. After a moment, his mother pulls him onward with the gentle reminder of, "Come along. We'll be late."

Ben's eyes linger a moment longer into the empty space behind him before he follows, and as his face turns upward toward the radiance that is his mother, Rey swears that, for the span a split-second, his eyes meet hers.

Rey opens her mouth to call to him, suddenly desperate to know if he can see or hear her, but in that moment the scene is ripped away, city and people and Leia and Ben gone in a dizzying flash.

The new location manifesting around her is one which Rey knows intimately enough to notice at a glance that things are out of place. She is in the Falcon's main hold, the one half-converted into a lounge, but the whole place looks cleaner than she left it, smells less like oil and more like freshly cooked food, and houses several objects that she is absolutely certain were not there before. She is drawn first to the dejarik table upon which sits a ratty, well-loved tooka doll sitting up as if someone has tried to pose it like one of the holographic creatures in the game.

Rey picks it up before she can over-think the implications of where she is and what she is doing. The toy is soft in her hands, tempting her to hug it, and when she does, she can feel him. The toy is Ben's. She can sense the residue of his Force signature as strong as if he had been here mere minutes ago. It is not as she remembers it, though. It is less angry, less sad, less Dark, although the Darkness is still present. She holds the doll up and squints at it, trying with every sense to read more. So intent on it is she that she almost fails to notice the footsteps behind her.

"That's mine."

The voice is deeper than it had been on the sunlit city street, but not by much. When Rey turns to look, she sees a boy of no more than five or six years old. He is staring back at her with a challenge in his eyes.

"I'm sorry... Ben. I was just looking." She thinks about putting the toy back where she found it, but that would involve taking her eyes off him, and she fears he might disappear if she does that. Instead, she holds out the toy as an offering.

Ben doesn't move. "How did you get here? We're in space. Did you stow away?"

"No. Not exactly." Rey scrambles for an excuse. "The Force sent me. I just wanted to check on you." It is the truth, or near enough to count.

"I can use the Force." There is a child's pride in the statement as well as a note of defiance. Rey thinks he might be trying to threaten her. After all, she is the intruder here.

"I know you can," she says, pitching her voice with the gentleness she thinks is meant to be used for children. He doesn't look impressed, but in fairness, her knowledge of such things is limited. "You'll be very good at it one day."

"That's what Snoke says."

Not 'Mom' or 'Dad'. Not 'Uncle Luke'. She wants to convince herself that she heard him wrong, but no. She knows what he said and she knows what it means. "You shouldn't listen to anything else Snoke says. He's a liar."

It's the wrong thing to say, of course. The boy bristles. Then he storms right up to her and snatches the doll from her hand. Almost, his fingers touch hers. Almost, but not quite. "Snoke's my friend. He's the only one who listens to me. Maybe _you're_ the liar."

Rey breathes in and out, slowly, keeping her eyes locked on the child’s. "Ben, listen, I..." And then her vision whirls again and she is pulled back, back through the hull of the ship and away into the void.

When the darkness clears a third time, she does not have to wait for Ben or to look for him. He is there in front of her, crouched on the floor of a sunny bedroom, stuffing trinkets and clothing into a bag. Again he is older than he was, but still a child. Still smaller than her, which is both disconcerting and adorable. This time, Rey stays where she is, stays silent, and watches.

"They mean well," Ben says, sounding dejected, but he isn't looking at her. "I can't control my powers, and Mom and Dad can't help, so I have to go to Uncle Luke."

There is a pause. Rey waits, unsure what to say, but then Ben speaks again.

"No, I _don't_ want to, but what choice do I have? I'll hurt someone again if I stay. What if it's Mom or Dad or Uncle Chewie this time?"

Another pause, only the span of a few seconds.

"Thanks, Snoke. I don't want to be alone."

The rage that surges in her is like a fire, hot on her skin and roaring in her ears. She wants to leap in front of the boy and defend him, even though she cannot see nor hear his enemy. She wants to scream and to plead and to tell him everything—tell him not to listen and what will happen if he does. She wants to hold him, to pull him tight within the safety of her arms and keep him there until the monster gives up and goes away.

She hesitates, afraid that he will react the way he did before. Afraid that by warning him away from Snoke, she will only drive him closer. 

Though she has not yet moved nor said a word, something attracts his attention and his head snaps around to look at her. "... It's you."

Rey presses down on her anger until she can speak in something close to a neutral tone. "You know me?"

"I've seen you before." The boy is guarded. Suspicious. "I thought you were a dream."

"I'm real." She almost balks then at the ramifications of what she is doing. She is real, but is he? Is this a vision, or is it the past? Had the Ben she knew remembered her from long before they met on Takodona? 

Could she change the course of his future if she found the right words?

And what would that do to hers?

"Ben, listen, I..."

"Hey, kid," a new voice interrupts—new, but just as familiar. Rey and Ben look up in unison as Han Solo leans around the doorframe. His gaze passes right over Rey and lands on his son. "Need a hand?"

Ben looks at Rey, then back to his father, and says not a word about her. Of course, Rey realizes, he must be used to keeping secret the voices that visit only him. "I'm fine, Dad. I don't need any help.” Sullen, his eyes fall away from Han before the last word is out of his mouth.

"You sure? I just thought..."

"I said I'm fine." This time his tone is waspish, a warning. 

Rey can see the hope die in Han's eyes. "Okay, well, if you change your mind..." But Ben doesn't answer or look at him again, so Han slinks away, dejected.

"Why won't you let him help?" Rey asks, and oh, it is very hard not to think about the last time she saw Han Solo alive. "He only wants to spend time with you."

Ben shoves a bundle of clothes into his bag more roughly than is probably necessary. "If he wanted to spend time with me, he wouldn't be gone all the time. Besides..." he adds this with a tone of petulance that is pure pre-adolescent boy. "What do you know?"

Rey once again has to remind herself to watch her words. Antagonizing him will likely do more harm than good. Still... "I know he loves you."

The boy doesn't deign to look back at her. "You don't know anything."

What else can she say to him? That she knows him better than anyone does? Would he believe her if she told him? Would Snoke overhear and turn him further against her? Is any of this real at all, or just a fantasy crafted by the Dark Side to tease and torment her? 

"Why do you look like that?" Ben asks, and Rey pulls herself back into the moment to see him staring at her from under deeply furrowed brows.

"Like what?"

"Like you're going to throw up. Don't do it in here. I'd have to tell Mom and Dad it was me."

It makes her smile, though she suspects he hadn't meant it to be funny. "We wouldn't want that."

The boy continues to glower. "Why are you still here, anyway?"

"What do you mean?"

"You didn't stay this long before, or talk this much." He says it like an accusation, like he would prefer it if she stopped talking and went away.

Rey finds she is learning quite quickly how not to be fazed by his attitude. "The Force is doing this. I don't control it."

"Oh." He seems to believe her. "Why?"

She forgets, if only for a moment, to worry about consequences, but that moment is long enough to answer. "I asked it to. Well, not like this. I asked it to show me you the way I know you. When you're... I..."

"The way you know me?" he echoes her words sharply. "When I'm what?"

When Rey opens her mouth, it stays that way, the words locking themselves up at the top of her throat. What the hell is she doing? She had just thought this through a moment ago, and here she is, tripping up. If any of this is somehow real...

"Who are you." It's a demand, not a question. Ben's voice is still childlike, but already as imperious as it will be in his worst moments. He is standing up, leaving his half-packed bag on the floor, and she can see the Force crackling around him. He is gathering it to strike. "What do you want with me?"

And just like that, the scene dissolves again, dragging her away from the bedroom and the boy and into darkness, into rain, into…

There is a wide building ahead of her. It is one she has seen before. Last time, in another vision, it was on fire. Now it stands sturdy against the storm, windows aglow with golden lamplight. It is a welcoming sight from where she stands under the pummeling rain, but she turns away from it, for to her right is a hut, small as the ones on Ahch-To. Unlike the stone domes, this one is made of wood slats and a shingled roof. Its high, narrow windows look useless except to provide lighting, but now the light comes from within, flickering in the nature of an open flame, and Rey's feet are moving before she can think better of it.

Ben is there when she pokes her head inside. She had no doubt he would be. His back is to her, hunched over a desk that looks dwarfed by his lanky frame. His shoulders are not yet as breathtakingly wide as she remembers, but he has shot up in height tremendously since their encounter of a moment ago. He goes still at her intrusion, despite how quiet she tries to be, but he does not turn around. A breath or two later, he resumes whatever it is he is working on. 

Rey slinks the rest of the way into the hut, craning to see around his coltish frame. He is gripping a thin tool—some sort of writing utensil, she surmises. His hand moves with precise and purposeful grace despite its ungainly size.

Rey wonders what she should say to him. Then she wonders if the last vision ended because she had tried to say too much. As she stands there too afraid to move, he speaks.

"You're dripping on the floor." Only after he points this out does he turn away from his work to look at her. "If you're not really here, how are you wet?"

Rey looks down at herself. She had felt the rain, but she hadn't thought to question it. "I don't know. It's always been like this."

He braces his elbow on the desk and props his chin on his upturned palm, affecting nonchalance. The act doesn't match the shadows under his eyes nor the lines of tension strung all through him. His aura screams of weariness and fraying hopes, but, for her, there is a spark of intrigue. "You do this often?"

"No. Maybe." Rey falters, still unsure whether she should tell him everything or as little as possible. How much of what he knows will Snoke find out? Does he hear it all? Could she make it worse for them both by trying to make it better?

"What's your name?"

Rey thinks back. When _had_ he learned her name? She had never introduced herself to him, but he had known it when she went to him on the Supremacy. Perhaps he had overheard it from Finn or Han. Perhaps he had pulled it from her mind. Or perhaps... "I'm Rey." And now that she’s begun, finally, she knows where to go. "You'll see me again in the future, Ben. When you have no one else, I'll be there for you. We'll be there for each other. You won't be alone, I promise."

"What—"

Before he can finish, Ben and his desk and his hut all spiral away from her as if caught up in the storm outside. The next visions come much faster and the swirling doesn't stop this time. She sees the school again, Ben and Luke standing outside, Luke looking uneffected while Ben shouts at him. She sees Ben alone, hunched over himself with his hands pressed to his ears. She sees the school burning, sees Ben's alarm and the tears that fall at the sight of the bodies of his fellow students. Luke had been wrong. Ben had not caused the fire, or if he had, it had been an accident. His screams alone tell her that much. Snoke was to blame. Snoke and his own puppet master, her grandfather, if that had not been a lie. They were to blame for everything. Rey had known this in theory. Now she sees it for herself.

And still the visions do not stop. She sees Kylo Ren, young and unsure, kneeling before his new master. She hears Snoke's words, jarringly soft and sympathetic, telling the boy that he has no where else to go. She opens her mouth to shout at him, but the scene shifts too quickly. She sees him learning to kill without faltering. She sees him learning to take a beating and get back up. She sees as Snoke's reprimands turn from gentle advice to mocking words to violence. When Ben doubts his lessons, Snoke tells him it is the only way he will be strong enough to fulfill his destiny.

She sees the mask descend steadily—not the physical one he used to wear, but the one that kept his feelings in check, hiding those traits which he’d been convinced were signs of weakness. She watches him become the monster who had hunted and haunted her, and then, to her bewilderment, she watches the day they met. 

The scene begins in the moment he cast his spell to render her unconscious. She sees herself fall and she sees him catch her, strangely gentle even then. She watches him stand unmoving for too long, holding her limp body against his chest, and then she watches his head turn until his masked face is pointed right at her—not the Rey in his arms, but the Rey who watches. She stares. He stares back. He does not say a word to her. He does not so much as nod, but he sees her. Of that much she is sure. Only after a long, agonized moment does he put his back to her and walk away.

Darkness descends and she wants to weep at the thought of seeing more, but something is wrong. Something is different. The shadow does not clear to show her another vision. It hangs around her as thick as night, as suffocating as a desert storm. She waits and waits for it to pass, but nothing happens. Nothing changes. Clenching her jaw against a rising sense of panic, she steps forward because she knows not what else to do.

It is like walking through water. The darkness clings to her, dragging at her limbs, slowing her to a point that makes her wonder if she is making any progress at all.

And then, between one blink and the next, there is a form, a figure, visible as little more than a patch of something lighter in the darkness around it. A silhouette in reverse.

Rey knows that shape. Even in the drowning dark, even hunched low to the ground and far away, she knows.

"Ben?"

  
-< >-

  
There is no sense of time in this afterlife. He might have been here for an eternity or for a moment. Worse, he knows no more than he did when he arrived. His enemy eludes him. He can feel its creeping fingers prying at the seams of his mind only to slip away when he tries to focus on them. Again and again they play this game, and again and again the results are the same, though Ben tries every trick he knows to lure his enemy off-guard. He is past the point of frustration and well on his way to losing the fight from sheer exhaustion, which frankly isn't fair. He didn't think the dead could feel exhausted.

Perhaps it is his punishment to fight a losing battle for the rest of eternity. It would be poetic. After all, it is what he had done in life. Perhaps this limbo will suspend him in a state of near-collapse until he loses all sense of self, until he is nothing but a shell, holding back the darkness with no memory of why he does it. Or perhaps, in the next instant, or in the one after that, he will succumb and become one with the Dark Side more completely than he ever had before. Perhaps Snoke was right and it is his destiny in spite of everything. Perhaps every moment he has spent fighting was in vain.

The light comes from behind him, cutting through the darkness like a swift sunrise. He turns and beholds a goddess, golden and radiant, and as her hand extends, palm turns upward, he rises and reaches to take it.


	4. So Lay Your Weary Hand On Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from “Wilderness” by Jon Bryant
> 
> -
> 
> Chapter edited: 2/18/21
> 
> -

He collapses the instant they are back in the cave together, too heavy for her to catch. It is all she can do to hang onto his arm and slow his fall so that he doesn't bash his head on the stones and kill himself all over again.

At that thought, reality sinks in. Ben is here, with her, alive. He is solid and real and breathing, gasping and shaking, and stars, he is enormous. She had rarely had the chance to think about that when they were constantly dueling with blades or with words. Now he is still, and so close to her, and even lying prone on the ground, even without his layered garb or his cloak, his broad shoulders look like they should belong to some hulking beast. It is beautiful, she thinks. He is beautiful.

But there are logistics to calculate and she doubts she has very long to do so with a clear mind. Relief threatens to bring her to her knees. Ben is here, against all reason. Somehow, after all her searching, she found him. She brought him back. He is alive and she is going to keep him that way. Her friends of the Resistance—of the New Republic Alliance, as they're calling it now—may want to take him from her, to exact some misguided sort of justice, but that won’t happen. She will plead his case until her voice gives out, and if that isn’t enough, she will take him and run. They won't have her if they won’t have him.

It should be a bitter thought, but there is too much else to feel right now.

He has not opened his eyes and he has not stopped shaking. If anything, it's getting worse. On top of the joy and disbelief and fierce protectiveness, Rey worries. His skin is clammy to the touch, his face taut with discomfort. The Force has not been courteous enough to restore him with clothing, which should be no surprise given that his was left behind when he faded. It presents a problem for Rey, however, and not just one of embarrassment. She is still soaking wet, chilled to the bone with all of her spare clothes left behind on the Falcon. She could light a fire, but there is nothing to burn. She could swim to shore, climb back to the ship, and pack a bag of supplies, but she balks at the thought of leaving him for even a fraction of the time it would take to do that. Under any other circumstances or with anyone else, it would be an irrational fear, but Ben she has watched vanish into nothingness once already.

The alternative, though, is to let him lie here in the cold indefinitely, possibly dying, possibly unconscious longer than she herself can wait without food or water. Better to go now and come back that much sooner.

Still, although something tells her the effort is useless, she tries to wake him. It would be so much easier if he could simply get up and swim out with her, find shelter and warmth far away from the oppressive Darkness of the cavern. It cannot be good for either of them to stay here.

"Wake up." She reaches out to brush hair from his eyes, to cup his cheek with her hand and turn his face toward hers. His breath comes shuddering and cold on her hand. "Ben, come on. I'm here. I found you." She pats his cheek. She shakes his shoulder. She says his name over and over, louder and louder, but he remains unresponsive.

The hardest thing is letting him go and standing up. At any moment she fears she will give up and stay, hold his hand and sit by his side even if it means they both die again. Instead, she must turn her back on him. She takes one last look over her shoulder and, in the manner of casting a spell, she says "don't go anywhere." Then she is diving into the water and kicking off for all she is worth. It is not a long swim out through the cavern's lower entrance and around to the nearest stretch of accessible shore, but night has fallen whilst she wandered in visions of the past and Rey is not a talented swimmer at the best of times. She is gasping when she pulls herself out, legs gone wobbly from the effort, but she waits only a moment to recoup before she starts the climb.

Although she can sense Ben’s presence pulsing steadily behind her, she almost turns back halfway to the ship. Her feet have halted and pivoted her around before her mind catches up with what is happening. She stops herself, but it is like pulling against a great weight. The only thought preventing her from running back down, back to Ben’s side, is that it would make leaving him in the first place meaningless. The scavenger in her can't abide that sort of of inefficiency. Not without a good reason. She is half way there, so she must keep going.

She plots out the goal ahead as she goes, mapping in her head the location of each item she needs and what will be the fastest route through the ship to collect them all. There is food and water, firemaking supplies, blankets and clothing… She’ll need a pack to put it all in and some way to keep it dry.

Despite her moment of near-failure on the way, when at last she is there and surging up into the ship, the rest is over almost before she knows it, her hands and feet carrying out the task on their own. BB-8 rolls in to check on her, but she dismisses him, managing some excuse about being in a hurry. After that, there is a moment of panic when the waterproof cloth she remembers isn't where she thought it was. Her heart is climbing up her throat as she begins to tear the place apart for it, only for it to turn up a moment later in a stack of spare blankets. 

With her supplies bundled securely, she's off again, leaping clear over the ramp with a little help from the Force and hurrying down the slope as fast as she dares. Ahead of her now, Ben’s lifeforce glows like a wishing star. As long as she can sense it, she knows she has time.

It is a sudden thing, the Caretaker stepping into her path just before she means to turn off toward the hole that would serve as a shortcut. She starts to go around, thinking it an accident, but the diminutive woman snaps out a hand in an unquestionable signal to stop.

Whatever it is she wants, she couldn’t possibly have picked a worse time, Rey thinks. "Let me through."

Rather than acquiescing, the Caretaker swings her outstretched arm to point down toward the roaring sea. Rey looks, and belatedly realizes that the tiny light shining below is not a vision of Ben's Force signature guiding her. It is something more solid, bright and flickering like a fire. Someone is there, down on the waterline right where Rey had climbed out after swimming from the cave. Whoever it is, that puts them far too close to Ben for her liking. She steps around the Caretaker and runs.

The fire is inside a lantern and the lantern is held by another Caretaker. This one waits, stoic and statuesque, until Rey is almost upon her, and then steps aside to let the light fall upon the small boat bobbing in the shallows behind her.

Rey stops and stares, trying to recalculate her expectations, trying to think through the firestorm of protective rage she had been stoking on her way down. "Are—are you helping me?"

The Caretaker widens her eyes at Rey, who interprets the look as something like a raised eyebrow. 

"I can take the boat?"

Her apparent benefactor steps to the side, farther out of the way, and gives the lantern a little wave.

"Thank you.” It comes out as a gasp as Rey clambers in. The craft wobbles precariously until she sits down. "Thank you,” she says again. “I'll return it." 

The Caretaker hands her the lantern and then bends down to retrieve the double-ended oar that had lain unnoticed by her feet, miming how to hold it and row before handing it over also. Rey thanks her a third time and gives it a valiant try, splashing her way pathetically out to sea before giving up and, with one great heave of the Force, pulling herself and the boat to the cave entrance and inside, steering by tugging at the walls and the water and the air itself. Then at last, not really so much later from when she had left but far too long all the same, she is scrambling up out of the boat, pack in hand, and crashing to her knees at Ben's side.

He is as she left him. Still breathing. Still shaking. Still looking pained. She unpacks her supplies as fast as her hands can move until she gets to one of the blankets, gripping two corners and flinging it over him in her haste to make him better. A second blanket she doesn’t unfold, but tucks gently under his head, letting her hand linger in his hair for a moment afterward. More slowly still, she moves to arrange the long-burning wood she has brought for a fire and to light it with a stick poked into the lantern flame. Only when all of that is done does she attend to herself.

Water and food come first. She has no appetite, but that is of no consequence when it comes to survival. She drinks, scarfs down a nutrient bar, and drinks again. She considers trying to make Ben drink too, but she fears he might choke. If he does not wake up within a day, she will try, but for the moment she leaves him be. With the food settling in her belly and the warmth of the fire soaking into her bones, weariness overtakes her quickly. Overworked and sleep-deprived as she is, the third blanket feels softer than anything in the galaxy when she bundles it around herself, and there is nothing more comfortable than curling up at Ben's side and following him into unconsciousness.

Her dreams are jagged and disjointed, built from memory and fear. She sees variations of her most recent endeavor, sees Ben returned to her as a corpse, bloodless and pale, or trapped in sleep until he turns old and gray. She sees their roles reversed, herself still dead on Exegol while her Dyad mate carries on, a husk, no longer able to hide behind the mask of Kylo Ren, but no longer Ben either. She sees him alone in a desert, garbed in gray like a ghost on the dunes, living for nothing but the memory of her and for everyone else who died loving him.

She wakes to the sensation of tears on her cheeks and a big hand brushing them gently away.

-< >-

There is a weight on his right arm. His hand has gone numb from lack of circulation. He starts to sit up, to pull away, and then he stops. He recognizes the presence beside him.

Awareness of the rest of his surroundings comes more slowly. He props himself up on his trapped elbow and notes the smooth, unforgiving solidity of the ground. The air stirs and he tenses at the chill of it, accustomed to more layers than the single blanket covering him. He can detect no injury, but every move, every breath feels like a monumental effort. He waits for his vision to clear and soon the blurry patches of light and darkness resolve into a low-burning campfire and the rocky walls and ceiling of a sea-carved cavern. The figure beside him is only faintly illuminated, face turned away from the fire's glow, but he would know her even if he were blind.

Rey sleeps uneasily. There is a hitch in her breath and her cheeks are striped with the tracks of tears. Ben lifts his free hand to dry them. Her face is tense, damp and dirty, lined with exhaustion even in sleep. It is all he can do not to pull her into her arms right then and never let her go. What a joy, what a gift it is to see her again, against all odds and expectations, let alone to be able to touch. What a gift it is when, at his touch, her eyes flutter open and the tension on her face eases into wonder. 

Ben smiles. He can't help himself. He takes his hand away, gives her a little breathing room. There are as many things to say to her as there are stars in the galaxy and he has no idea where to start.

Wide-eyed, Rey is looking him over as if to make sure he's all there. Then up she sits in a rush. The arm she used as a pillow, free at last, begins to tingle and sting with renewed bloodflow. If he hadn't known whether he was alive or not before, he is fairly certain of it now. Still, the way Rey looks at him is like a dream.

"You're alright..."

Ben opens his mouth to reassure her, but he remains at a loss for what to say. This is fine too, it turns out, because that's when she throws her arms around him and buries her face in the crook of his neck.

"You were dead." Her voice is thick with emotion and muffled against his bare skin, but her emotions radiate around her strongly enough that he would know what she was trying to say even if she didn't say a thing. "You left me."

What else can he do but return her embrace, tuck his chin over her shoulder and hold her as he has only held her once before? Only now, with her heart thumping against his chest, with her slight frame warm and giving in his arms, does he find himself able to speak. "It's okay." The clarity of his own voice surprises him. He expected it to come hoarse or not at all, given how wretched the rest of him feels. "I'm here. I'm back." Her shoulders begin to shake then, so he rubs a hand up and down her back, recalling how his mother had used to do the same for him. 

And how strange it is, he thinks, to be wanted even now, when all of his family is gone. How strange it is to know that he was mourned.

Rather than subside, Rey's sobbing grows stronger, wracking her whole body as she clings to him. When Ben's eyes sting in empathy, he makes no effort to contain his own tears. There is no shame in what she has already seen.

For a long time, they weep in each other’s arms, letting grief and guilt wash away one saltwater drop at a time. Yet for all that he would be content to hold her forever, it is difficult to support his own weight, let alone hers. He feels weaker than he ever has in his life, and though he is conditioned to keep functioning through pain and exhaustion, he can only go on for so long.

"Rey..." he says in a moment of quiet while she catches her breath. “I need to lie down."

That gets a bigger response than he means for it to, Rey pushing away to hold him at arm's length and look at him with eyes full of worry. "Wh-what's wrong? Are you hurt?" She can barely speak through her tears, but she looks ready to fight an army or rip a planet apart for his sake.

"It's okay... Rey.... Just tired."

There is a moment when she doesn't look like she believes him, but then she sighs, deflating, and before he knows what to expect, she has rearranged herself beside him and is guiding his head down onto her lap. "I won't let you go," she says, and her voice has gone firm as the stone beneath them. "Not again."

He believes her. Whatever fear he may still have harbored that this was not real or only temporary, that fear is gone now. Somehow, against every law of nature, Rey has brought him back, defying his fate and pulling him from whatever afterlife or liminal space he had been banished to. He knows he won't be going anywhere as long as she forbids it. He knows he can rest easy under her guard.

If he dreams, he does not remember it. He drifts in and out of awareness for a time, always safe, always warm in the radiance of her presence, under the gentle touch of her hands. At some point, when he is more awake than not, she has him sit up and swallow some water. Once or twice he feels her shift, adjusting the position of her legs underneath him, likely to keep them from ending up like his arm did. Except for that, she is still, devoted in her self-assigned role as his savior. It is a role, he recalls with a tightness in his chest, which she took on as early as her trip to the Supremacy, mere days after they had met. Even then, she had been so ready to forgive him and welcome him home. His Rey...

When consciousness returns to him fully, he feels better, somewhat. Rey is still there above him, posture straight and eyes closed. A caress of the Force tells him that she is deep in meditation, so he lets her be, taking stock of his surroundings while he waits. He had identified the natural shape of the cave earlier, but now he feels the temperament of the Force here, the cloying concentration of Darkness, and he begins to wonder about the cost of his resurrection. What did Rey need of this place? Had she turned to the Darkness to save him, or had his own affinity for Darkness brought her here?

She does not feel Dark. No more so than usual. She has always had a capacity for the Dark Side, to be fair. He recognized it in her the first time he saw her, and upon witnessing her memories and her dreams, he'd understood it better than she herself had. It was, after all, so much like his own.

Rey still has her Darkness, but she has not fallen to it. That much is clear. He lets his gaze trace the dimensions of the cave, searching for some other reason why she might have brought him here. It is when he sees the flat, crystalline wall that he remembers her story from the night before Snoke's death. Her encounter with the mirror cave. Is that where they are, then? He reaches out, reaches up, and... yes. He can feel a place of Light somewhere above, the match to this well of Darkness. It reminds him of the abandoned temples his uncle used to take him to, and when that thought crosses his mind, he recognizes something else here, within the light but not a part of it. His uncle has left a mark in the Force. A scar of sorts, and a strikingly large one. This, then, must have been where he was when he…

"It's called Ahch-To." Rey's voice brings him back to himself. Her posture has relaxed and she is looking down at him. When he meets her eyes, she smiles. "This is where I found Luke."

"This is where you were when we connected."

She nods, but her smile fades. "How do you feel?"

"Better." He is cautious sitting up, but it's true. There is a bone-deep weariness still weighing down his limbs, an all-over ache as if he had been in a long fight the day before, or been put through one of Snoke's trials, but it is not as hard to move now as it had been. "Thank you."

Rey flushes and ducks her head. "Of course."

It isn't enough. Curling his knuckles under her chin, he lifts her gaze back up to meet his. "I mean it. Thank you. You don't owe me any of this."

He doesn't know how he expects her to react, but it is not the gruff command of "shut up," or the sudden heat and pressure of her mouth on his. She savors the kiss like she did on Exegol, leaving Ben warm and tingly all over by the time she pulls away. This time, though, he chases her, catching her in his arms and dipping her over his lap, swooping back in and coaxing her lips to part, kissing her as deeply as he can. He’s had some practice at this—not much, but some. There had been Tai, when they were just boys... Tai had probably been the closest thing he had to a friend among Luke’s other students, and Tai had wanted to be more. Ben, who was not particular about gender, had given it a try, but they were young. It didn’t last.

Still, he had learned how to kiss from Tai, and what he knows, he gives to Rey. Her fingers are digging into his shoulders, her lips and tongue following the example he sets. She is clumsy at first, bumping noses and clacking her teeth against his, but then he feels a tap on the door of his mind and he lets her in, lets her learn from him the way she has learned before, and then the kiss is flawless. Then it is a dance. 

When they separate and he hoists her upright, she smiles again, looking flushed and downright giddy. "I didn't get the chance to tell you last time... I've wanted to do that since the night we touched hands."

"Me too." She is leaning in for more even as he speaks, but he holds her back this time. There are things he still needs to say. "Rey, I'm sorry."

"No, Ben—"

"Please let me finish." 

She bites her lip, looking like she wants to argue, but instead she gives in and nods.

Ben takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He has thought about this moment for a long time, rehearsed it in his head like the lovestruck fool he is. Now that he can say it at last, it all comes out in a mumbled rush. "I'm sorry for everything. I was stupid. I should have listened to you. I should have gone with you sooner. I should never..." here he falters, voice breaking on the words. 

"I don't blame you, Ben."

"You should."

"No." She shakes her head, scrunching her nose up in that adorably fierce way of hers. "I know it was Snoke. I know what he did to you."

Ben feels himself flinch at the name. Somehow, though the monster is a year dead, it is harder to think on him now than it was when he was still Ben’s master. There is probably some interesting piece of psychology there, he thinks, but regardless of Snoke’s role in the play of their lives, he cannot see himself as the faultless victim Rey wants him to be. "It was me,” he insists. “It was my hands. My choices."

"No."

"I killed people." Here he lifts a hand to stroke her cheek, needing to feel her softness. Needing to reassure himself even as he makes the next confession. "… I hurt you."

"It wasn't your fault."

"It was, Rey. Please accept that."

Her stare is sullen, almost petulant. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"Tell me I was wrong," he pleads.

There is hurt in her eyes, but when she speaks next, he can tell it is not just to satisfy him. She means it when she says, "You were wrong."

So he keeps pushing. "Tell me I hurt you."

"Ben..."

"I need to hear you say it."

This time, she doesn't. She takes his hand from her face and brings it to her lips, kissing it before clasping it in both of hers and holding it between him like a statement. "I forgive you," she says, and it is not what he wants to hear—It is not why he said what he said, but it tears him to shreds and rebuilds him like death and rebirth all over again. "I forgive you, Ben Solo," she repeats. "For everything."

"I don't want forgiveness." It is hard to speak now. It is hard to deny her, but he chokes the words out. "I don't deserve it."

Rey kisses his hand a second time. "Yes you do." And then she kisses his lips again, and all he can do is surrender.


	5. A Little Closer Than Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from “Closer” by Dido
> 
> -
> 
> Chapter edited: 2/18/21

They stay in the cave for a few hours more. Ben is waiting for Rey to lead, and Rey... he doesn't know what she is waiting for. They eat, drink, and warm themselves by the embers of the fire. They talk little. There is still much to say—too much for any one conversation—so they take their time. The majority of the day is spent with silence and tender, timid touches. That and sleep, for they both seem to need more of it than usual.

He thinks it must be nearing sunset when they decide to venture onward. He has tracked the passage of the day by the light that filters dimly through the hole in the ceiling, though there is not much of it to go by. Still, he is proven right after they've put out their fire, packed their single bag, and he is rowing the little boat out of the cavern and into the yellow cast of evening. "Two suns?"

"Yeah."

"Luke grew up on a planet with two suns." He doesn't like to talk about Luke, but Rey cared about Luke, and he likes talking to Rey.

"I know," she says. "I've seen it. It's nothing like Ahch-To, though."

"No." The conversation feels stilted even by Ben's standards. There is so much untrodden ground between them, so many sore spots. He doesn't yet know which ones to avoid and which to poke at until they become desensitized. It can't all be the former, after all, or else they will have nothing to talk about but the weather.

And even then, it had been the weather that brought them to the subject of Luke.

"I'll have to return the boat," Rey says. "Maybe we should do that now. Do you want to?"

"I don't have any other plans."

The answer earns just a little bit of a smile. "We'll have to go around the island. Their village is on the other side."

Ben takes a breath and reaches for whatever remains of his courage. Somehow, he gathers enough of it to say, "Then you sit here," gesturing to the space between his knees, "and I'll teach you how to row."

Rey blushes brighter than he has ever seen and for a moment she doesn’t move. He thinks perhaps he has done something wrong, been too forward, but then she is wobbling across the cramped space and cramming her rump between his legs. Ben, who is garbed only in a blanket kilted around his middle for decency and another over his shoulders for warmth, has not thought this through very well.

"Okay," says Rey, wriggling against him, and he cannot see the smug smile on her face, but he can certainly hear it in her voice. "Teach me."

He could let her learn the same way she learned to use the Force, but in this case, he decides, a little hands-on training will be more enjoyable. He balances the double-ended oar in front of them and finds her hands, guiding them to the proper distance apart. With his own hands just outside hers, he begins to row again, slower this time to let her get a feel for the depth and angle of the strokes.

"Where did you learn this?" She is leaning back against his chest. When she speaks, he can feel the vibrations of her voice.

"Luke. He liked to do things the old fashioned way."

"Sounds like him."

"I guess he was right. Here we are out to sea without an engine."

He isn't trying to be funny, but she laughs, which is so beautiful a sound he forgets for a moment to keep rowing. Rey takes over, shaky at first against the pushback of the sea, but quickly learning how much strength it takes to move at an efficient pace. He corrects her grip one more time and then gives her space to practice. The wind and waves are mild enough and they both have the Force if anything should go wrong. While Rey steers them vigorously around the island, Ben takes the time to look at it, contemplating its jagged peaks and the fat little avians that cluster on ledges at the water's edge. This is where Luke had hidden himself away, then. This cold, remote place that stinks of brine and rings with the discordant squawks of the local wildlife.

His uncle must have loved it.

  
-< >-

  
The ocean is calm, but it is not still. Low waves roll beneath them at regular intervals. When the boat cuts close around one of the island's peninsulas, those waves wash back again, disturbed by the projection of earth in their path. It does not quite catch Rey off guard, exactly. She sees it coming. The problem is that she doesn't know how to respond. Those little humpbacked waves hit the boat from one side and then the other, not enough to overturn it, but enough to knock her off balance. She would have toppled backwards, perhaps hit her head, had Ben not been there to catch her, arms coming up around her as she falls against his bare chest. The boat rocks once, twice, and settles. Then, to her very great surprise, Ben laughs.

Rey picks herself up and twists around, desperate to see his face. It is stunning how much it changes him, how the laugh lines break his statuesque sternness. He looks like a different man entirely when he laughs. He looks like a stranger she wants to get to know better. 

With one hand keeping their single oar in place and the other catching hold of the blanket draped over Ben’s shoulders, she leans in for a kiss. He meets her halfway and it is as soft and precious as each one before it. Then another wave rolls under the boat and jolts them apart and it is Rey's turn to laugh. She does not say 'we should keep going’, but she doesn't need to. Ben is already catching her hand in his and guiding it back to its place on the oar. He lets go of her then, but only long enough to drop his hands to her hips—a firm, warm pressure to hold her steady against any further mischief from the sea. 

Ben may be the one most recently resurrected, but Rey feels like she has just come alive.

As the village drifts into view, its lanterns lighting one by one against the approach of night, Ben offers to take another turn rowing, but Rey dismisses him with a grunt of "I've got it" and powers onward. She _is_ getting better at it, or at least she thinks she is. The boat seems to move farther with each stroke now, turn easier this way or that when she holds the oar down at one side. Her arms are aching and they'll be worse in the morning, but there is a simple thrill to learning something new. Better still is knowing that there is someone to catch her if she falls.

Nearing the village brings back her worries for Ben's safety, but the Caretakers are not the Resistance, and they have already helped her once. Isolated as they are, they may not even know who Kylo Ren was, or care, so long as he presents no threat to them now. 

This is the reasoning with which Rey tries to reassure herself as she steers them toward the dock and sees the villagers gathering to meet them. Ben has gone tense and silent behind her. Even their connection in the Force is locked down and she is left to come up with worries and explanations on her own.

Two of the villagers move to secure the boat as Rey does her best to get it close enough. She fumbles the task, knocking rather hard into the pier, but a quick, embarrassed check reveals no significant damage. The Caretakers catch and tie the boat deftly, holding it flush to the pier long enough for Rey to climb out and turn to offer Ben a hand. He probably doesn't need it, but it feels good to help him in every way she can. When she then starts to move around him and reach for their supplies, he beats her to it, shrugging his blanket cape out of the way and slinging the pack over his shoulder without a word.

Now comes the time to make her excuses and apologies to the Caretakers. She does not know their language nor if they understand any of hers, so all she can do is try. "Thank you for the boat. You can have it back and we'll get out of your way. We're just going to our ship and the temple and..." She is weaving her way between them as she speaks, keeping her grip firm on Ben's hand, but the Caretakers let her get only as far as the end of the dock before closing in to block her path. Rey tenses, ready for a fight, until the shortest and wrinkliest of the lot raises one hand in her direction and gestures with the other at something off to Rey's right. It takes her a moment to distinguish what she is being shown. There is a villager arranging pillows and blankets on a bench-like platform while two more raise an awning above it, and none of that strikes Rey as relevant to the situation. The Caretaker in front of her shakes her pointed finger and croaks a word Rey doesn't know while another of the villagers gives her a push in the direction of the platform. Then she gets it.

"Are you...? No, we don't… We'll just go up to the ruins." But whether they understand her or not—and she suspects they do—the one keeps pointing and the other keeps pushing. Helplessly, she looks at Ben. "I think they want us to stay."

"Then why don't we?"

Rey feels herself frowning. "You want to? I thought..." She thought he would want to avoid people, strangers and allies alike. After all, that's what _she_ wants, and he has more reason than she does.

But he says, "I don't sense any danger here. We might as well accept their hospitality," and who is she to argue? It's Ben she wants to help, to protect, and to make comfortable. If he wants to stay, then she can adapt.

Shoulders slumping in defeat, she lets the Caretakers guide her bodily to the platform they have so thoughtfully cushioned for her. It is something like a bench with a flat wooden back, guarded from the weather by a tent-like tarp and built long and deep enough that even Ben will be able to stretch out on it with only his heels hanging off the end. He doesn't. He sits down, back hunched, and keeps his eyes pinned on Rey until she sits beside him. Their thighs brush, but she resists the urge to cuddle closer. Regardless of what he senses or doesn't, she can't yet bring herself to lower her guard.

Her resolve wavers a little when one of the Caretakers shoves a bowl of hot food at her. It looks like some sort of thick stew, brown broth with chunks of pink meat and a pale root vegetable she remembers eating with Luke. Ben mumbles a "thank you" and spoons himself a bite as soon as a matching bowl is placed in his hands, so Rey follows suit. It's good stew, more flavorful than she expects, seasoned with something slightly sweet and sort of spicy. Rey is still sensitive to spicy food, but she is finding herself not entirely opposed to it.

Ben is wolfing down his meal with startling enthusiasm. When she flashes him a tentative smile, he returns it, just briefly, before shoveling another spoonful into his mouth.

They have a little water left in their supplies, as Rey had been sure to bring plenty, but when the Caretakers offer them cups of dark, herbal-scented tea, they both accept. It is as surprising as the stew, nearly as bitter as caf but with a cloying sweet aftertaste. Rey likes this less, but she is the last person to be picky about nourishment or about a source of warmth against the chill of twilight.

After serving their guests, the villagers more or less ignore them as they go about their own business. Many have sat down on chairs or benches or on the ground to partake in the same stew, which is being ladled out of an enormous black pot over an outdoor firepit. A few others are still out on the docks, pulling in nets and traps or working on boats. Rey keeps a wary eye on everyone, but few so much as look her way, let alone approach. The exceptions come when they are offered second helpings of stew, which they both accept, and a little while later, when a single Caretaker approaches with her hands folded in her white sleeves and says to Rey in flawless basic, "Alcida-Auka has invited you to stay one night as a gift. Any more, and we will require a trade of labor."

Rey is still trying to quell her surprise and formulate a polite refusal when Ben speaks up. "Thank you. We'll stay." She glares at him before she can stop herself, but he only looks at her blandly and says, "I hope you don't mind. I don't feel like climbing those hills yet, and I'd rather not sleep in the bed of my dead uncle."

That reasoning not only mollifies her but makes her feel guilty for expecting otherwise. Of course he would not be ready for that. He might never be ready, and that should be fine with her. She wants whatever is best for him.

Still, she can't shake the nervousness attached to being in a populated place, even one as small as the Caretaker village. "Sorry,” she murmurs. “I guess I'm being paranoid. I just want you to be safe."

His smile is soft, like the sun breaking through the gloom after a rain. "I _can_ take care of myself, Rey."

"You say that," she counters, "but I still had to watch you die."

He stops smiling, the proverbial sun sinking back behind the clouds. "So did I."

More than a standard week has passed since that day, but she has tried, even as she searched for him, not to dwell on his side of it. It was too much to think about. He had given his life to heal her, so of course he had seen her dead or dying. She doesn't have to wonder if it hurt him as much as it hurt her. That truth burns bright now in the Force between them. It is enough to make Rey set down her bowl, appetite gone, and finally let her guard drop as she leans into his side. A heavy arm comes around her in an instant, a contented sigh ruffling her hair. It isn't enough. Eyes already shut, she turns her head and tips her face upward to find the source of his breath, to capture his lips with her own. It will take quite a few kisses to heal the hurts and to make up for all the lost time, but Rey thinks she's up to it. Judging by the way Ben responds, he is too.

When the sky is full of stars and slumber calls to them both again, Ben arranges himself on his side against the back of their oversized bench and opens his arms to her. There is, quite simply, no way they will both fit comfortably otherwise. She squirms into place with her back to his chest and enjoys the flutter in her stomach when his hand finds hers to hold. It is almost unfair how swiftly sleep claims her after that. She would have been content to lie awake this way for hours.

-

Rey isn't certain who wakes first. Perhaps it happens in the same moment. They are certainly attuned enough to each other. She sits up, Ben drowsily moving his arm away to give her space. She doesn't go far. Instead she leans over him, admiring his near-sleeping face until he cracks open his eyes and lifts a hand to touch her cheek—as if, perhaps, to be certain she is real.

Rey feels her lips pull into a smile before her conscious brain can tell them to. "Good morning."

Ben's thumb strokes her cheek, sending pleasantly electric tingles all the way down to her toes. "Good morning."

It hits her then how unlikely, how impossible this should be—the simplicity of waking up beside Ben Solo to say good morning. It is such a trivial act, something so domestic, and it's true, Rey has not had enough of that with anyone in the span of her lonely life, but to have it now with _him_ —with the man who had been her sworn enemy, her arch nemesis, her monster, yet for whom she had dove into the heart of the enemy’s stronghold to rescue, for whom she might have kissed on this same island a year ago had Luke not stopped her... She had despaired of ever having that chance again, and yet here they are, and he is smiling ever so softly as she gazes down at him.

"I was just thinking how strange this is," she confesses, and moves back just a bit to make room as he sits up.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean this. Me and you, not fighting. I didn't think it was possible."

The smile he gives her can almost be described as sly. "It _is_ nice to look at you without a lightsaber between us."

"Oh!" she startles as the words remind her, "I have something of yours." From under the salt-stiffened fabric of her shirt, she brings out the cracked red crystal and slips the cord over her head, holding it out to him.

Ben's hand moves as if by reflex, then stops, remaining suspended halfway between them as he stares. "That's my..."

"Your kyber crystal. From your lightsaber," she finishes for him because she can't contain herself. "It called to me. It's what brought me here."

"I threw it into the ocean..." His words come slow and quiet as if he is still waiting to believe what is before him.

"I pulled it out."

Ben hesitates a moment longer and then, not quite shaking but looking like he might start at any moment, he puts both hands together and Rey deposits the crystal into his cupped palms. For a long time after, he just looks at it, turning the crystal over with a thumb and staring as if under a spell.

"I tried to heal it," she goes on, "but it wouldn't let me. It wants you."

To that, he does not respond right away. Carefully, the makeshift necklace goes around his neck, the crystal settling on his bare chest. He does not quite meet Rey's eyes when he says, barely more than a whisper, "Thank you."

Rey had been hoping to see the crystal healed then, a closure to her mission, but it is Ben's task now, not hers, and he is apparently in no rush. Instead, he seems to come more into himself, to come alive and more connected with his surroundings. He looks past Rey, turns his head to scan the space around them, brings a hand up to pull the blanket tighter around his shoulders. 

"Do you think they have any of that stew left?" he asks, and Rey almost laughs.

"Good question. Let's find out."

They do not, it happens, have any leftover stew, but there is fresh fish for breakfast seasoned with a lemony-tasting herb and served with chewy slices of bread to soak up the fat. Rey eats every scrap, licking the plate clean, and then she has to sit still for a little while with her arms around her middle, trying not to be sick from the richness of the meal. Ben has been wiser, she notes, pacing himself over the generous breakfast so that he is still leisurely chewing when Rey sets down her plate. If he notices her discomfort, he doesn't mention it, which is fine by her because in all honesty she's embarrassed. Rather, when he _does_ finish, he cleans his hands as best he can and lifts his gaze up towards the green hills. "I don't suppose there's anywhere I can get some clothes on this island..."

"There's plenty of spares in the Falcon," Rey answers before she realizes that he might not, until that moment, have known which ship she came in. "And... and there is whatever Luke left behind, though you're kind of tall..." 

Ben is grimacing and Rey can feel the accompanying twinge in the Force, a crack forming in his hard-won sense of peace. She watches him swallow, wishing she hadn't mentioned anything to do with the Falcon or his family, but all he says, in a carefully level voice, is "I would look ridiculous in Luke's clothes. I'll see what you have on the... in the ship. Where is it?"

"Other side of the island," she answers, and then she adds, hesitant, "I could... I could go and bring something back, if you want." The last thing she wants is to go anywhere without him, but neither does she want to see him wounded by something he is not yet ready to face. 

Ben looks at her for what feels like a long time. She can see the moment of surrender in his eyes just before he speaks, subdued and oddly formal. "... Thank you. I would appreciate that."

"Yeah. Just give me a minute." She leans forward and plants a kiss on his cheek, catches his hand in hers, wishing to bring back that relaxed softness from earlier.

It works, at least somewhat. He manages a crooked smile that makes him look so much like his father it hurts.

"You'll be alright here for a little while?" she asks, not quite able to make herself walk away without checking.

"I'll be fine, Rey." He sounds like he even believes it, maybe. "You'll know if I'm not."

She doesn't know what else to say, so she gives his hand a squeeze and stands to head out on her way.

It is a long walk from the village to where she left the Falcon. She is no stranger to long walks, but most of those in the past have not involved leaving her recently-dead soulmate behind. Her only comfort is that she can feel him in the Force when she tries, as clear and as strong as if she were still standing beside him. She keeps that channel open all the way to the ship, clinging to it like a child with a security blanket. Ben is handling it better than she is, from what she can tell. Their connection does not let her know his thoughts—not unless he speaks them to her—but she can feel his mood, or at least the bare bones of it, and if she looks hard enough, she can see him. Each time she peeks, he is sitting, eyes closed, draped in his blankets. He is meditating or perhaps merely resting. She is not sure which and she doesn't want to disturb him by asking.

The Millennium Falcon is just as she left it, complete with BB-8's excited beeping. Rey feels a pang of guilt for leaving him so long with so little explanation. "No, I'm only back for a minute. I'm sorry. Yes, I did find what I was looking for, but I don't know how much longer we're going to stay. It might be a while."

BB wobbles from side to side and whines inquisitively.

"Please do, but... don't tell them anything. Not where I am. Not what I'm doing. I don't think they'd understand."

The droid sounds unsure, but he agrees. She has faith he won't betray her without a good reason.

"Thank you, my friend." And on she goes, fearing it may take a while to sort through the Falcon's wardrobe. Most of it had come from the Resistance. In the heat of the war, there had been no knowing what supplies they might need. Clothes were gathered alongside blankets, tools, rations, and spare parts. The Falcon, being their only ship for a time and always their fastest, had ended up carrying more than its fair share of these supplies, and though Rey had tried to rehome much of it before she left, rebel numbers had fallen again after the battle at Exegol and there wasn't a use for all of it.

It is possible, also, that some of Han Solo's things still remain on the ship, but if so, she does not recognize them and with any luck, neither will Ben.

The trousers she finds all look too short, but she packs the two longest pairs from the bunch. The shirts she picks look too wide, which means they will probably fit snugly. She fails to find any underthings, so Ben will just have to cope with that. She does, at least, find a sturdy-looking belt, and there are a few sets of boots, but she is even less certain about the size for those. She ends up taking the largest ones. If they aren't right, she can help Ben alter them or come back for more.

When his are packed, she checks on him again through the bond. Finding him just as he was the last time she looked, she gathers herself a clean set of clothes as well, and then, reluctant to spare the time but knowing she needs it, she steps into the shower. It is quick enough, only a few minutes sloughing off sweat and dirt and salt under the sonic. Then she is pulling on her fresh attire. She considers, just for a moment, flying the whole freighter across the island to get back faster, but the whole point of coming alone was to spare Ben a confrontation with his father's ship.

Bag of clothes slung over her shoulder, she makes one last stop to retrieve her staff before descending again onto the misty Ahch-To hills.

On the way to the ship, she had kept her thoughts trained on the task ahead. On the way back, there is less to keep her mind from wandering. There is the cloudy sky and the dewy grass and the strain of muscles on steep inclines… and there is Ben. Ben Solo, who is waiting for her. She doesn't know what he wants to do with his new life or where they will go, but they have the whole galaxy ahead of them. The war against the First Order drags on in small pockets, but it is nothing like it was. How easy it would be for them to disappear, to go where no one knows their faces, where no one will ask or demand a thing...

It would not be forever. What she wants is not to abandon her friends or the Jedi or the galaxy entirely, but to have _time_. Just a little time. Time to spend with the person she chooses, going where she chooses, doing or not doing what she chooses. These are things she has never had before. She chose to stay with the Resistance, yes, but that was different. That was war. It wasn't all bad, to be fair—it was better than Jakku—but her choices then had still been made for survival. Now, for the first time in her life, she can choose what makes her happy.

It puts a spring in her step to imagine what the near future might look like, walking not over harsh, steep hills or barren deserts but through quiet forests, flower-strewn meadows, or neon-lit cities, her hand in Ben's always. There will be long, peaceful journeys on the Falcon. Ben will come to terms with it, she is sure. He will come to love it again, to cherish the memories of his family despite everything. He'll be alright. He'll be happy, even. They both will.

Rey realizes she has not checked in on him for too long when she comes upon the village and sees him standing outside, one of the Caretakers balanced on his shoulders and engrossed in some sort of repair work at the top of the wooden gate. It is a ridiculous sight. Ben has shed the blanket from around his shoulders, clad now only in the one around his waist. The Caretaker has her robes girded up around her thighs, freeing her twig-thin legs and bird-like feet. Ridiculous or not, it is a sight that fills Rey’s heart with joy. Here is her Ben not only up and active, but demonstrating kindness and cooperation with someone other than her. Images from her daydream shine bright behind her eyes and she thinks—she really, truly believes—that everything is going to be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Rey.... You think that, but this is only the beginning of the story...
> 
> Next chapter's got smut, though, so there's that to look forward to.
> 
> Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think. Constructive criticism is welcome. I want to improve.


	6. The Smile I've Never Shown Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Herein lies the most explicit smut I’ve written since my roleplay partner on WoW stopped playing, so be gentle with me and also you're welcome. (but seriously, tell me how to improve)
> 
> Chapter title from "So Far Away" by Staind
> 
> -
> 
> Chapter edited: 2/18/21
> 
> -

They stay at the Caretaker village longer than Rey means to. They pay their rent, as it were, in much the same way she earned her supplies on Tatooine. They assist with repairs and they fish, though Ben is considerably better at the latter than Rey is.

"Luke taught me," he explains when she comments on it. This is his answer when she asks about most of his varied skills. His father taught him to fly and maintain ships. Luke taught him everything else.

"Luke practically raised you, didn't he?"

"I don't wanna talk about it."

They don't talk much, for all that they spend every possible moment together. On the one hand, Rey longs to talk about the past and about everything they've been through. On the other, why bother? They were both there. They fought. They hurt each other. They saved each other. Maybe Ben's way is the right way and all of it is better left behind them.

The first few days are dreamlike. They wake up, reassure each other that they are both still there, and then Ben braids Rey's hair. It started the first time she tried to redo her buns in his presence. He had halted her with a touch on her arm, coaxed her to turn about and, gentle as can be, he had woven her hair into an arrangement of elegantly looped braids. He does this every morning after. He has not said a word about it and Rey has not asked, afraid that if she does, he might stop.

Ben braids her hair, they eat a meal with the villagers, and then they work. The Caretakers don't really need them, of course. They have their own ways of doing things. The island has, after all, gone much longer without Force-using inhabitants than with. The Force just gets things done faster.

Mainly it does the job of keeping them both busy. It gives them some illusion of purpose—something small and personal and completely unrelated to the fate of the galaxy. 

It is, just as her work on Tatooine had been, something to lose themselves in.

The nights are harder than the days. Even wrapped in Ben's arms, her dreams still plague her. She dreams of waking to find him missing, or worse, to find him dead and cold beside her. She dreams of stepping through the mirror wall and being lost inside forever. She dreams of Snoke and of Palpatine always, and she dreams of herself. She sees in her nightmares the same image she saw once before. She sees herself, golden-eyed and clad in black, lit by the flame of a crimson lightsaber. She sees cities burned and lives taken. She sees ships pulled down from the sky. She wakes shaking, sometimes crying out, sometimes more than once a night, and even Ben's hands and lips and gentle words are slow to soothe her.

He dreams too, but he is used to it, or so he tells her. He may twitch and thrash and mutter under his breath, but his nightmares rarely wake him. When they wake Rey instead, she strokes his hair and speaks to him softly until he calms, and Ben remembers none of it in the morning.

It is their third day in the village when Rey asks him to spar with her. It is their fourth day when he agrees. Rey has already prepared a practice sword for him from the spare wooden rods kept for construction. To prevent it from breaking under the sturdier material of her staff, she's made one for herself as well. She has also, while he worked, picked out the perfect place for their match. There is a narrow meadow just beyond the village, bordered by the sea on two sides and shielded from view by a grassy ridge. It isn't much. Flat ground is scarce on Ahch-To, but it is close and it is private, and the Caretakers—the Lanai, as they prefer to be called—have little use for it.

Ben stops at the top of the ridge and stands for a while, tilting his face into the wind. Rey can't guess where his mind is at. The Force still binds them together like a wire, but it is pinched these last few days, nearly silent except when she pries it open or when one of them experiences an extreme of emotion.

She can't decipher his mood today, but he comes back to himself soon enough, loping down the slope and catching the stick with ease when she tosses it his way.

She almost asks him if he's sure about this, but she stops herself. She is desperate for the practice, desperate to break the monotony of their new life, and she is afraid that if she gives him the chance, he will change his mind. She _should_ give him that chance. Really, she should... but Rey needs this. They may not talk about their past, but the shadow of it still lingers. The memory of crossed blades and terror and pain still lies between them and she needs to face it. She needs to make it into something new.

She slips out of the poncho she's been wearing against the cold, folding it up before sets it down to keep most of it dry upon the dewy ground. She hefts her stick, adjusts her grip, moves into a defensive stance, and waits for Ben to come at her.

It starts slow. Ben exaggerates his swings as if Rey is a beginner, leaving her with more than enough time to parry or dodge. She doesn't complain. He is at least giving her what she asked for. If this is how he has to do it, then fine. She understands. He is battling the same memories that gnaw at her. Still, she wishes he would talk to her about it. She wishes he would talk about _anything_ other than the few words necessary to coordinate the work they do and the sweet nothings he whispers to soothe her nightmares, but this... maybe this will be enough. For now.

He does pick up the pace, slowly but surely. Rey pushes him as much as she dares, and as the initial nervousness fades and they fall together into the familiar rhythm of it, she sees his mouth turn up in the ghost of a smile. That alone is enough to make her grin and press the attack. Ben responds, blocking and deflecting and then sliding to her left and taking a swing that she _almost_ fails to parry.

Breath heavy, blades locked, they stare each other down. Rey relinquishes first, reducing the pressure on her stick slowly so that he'll know what she means to do. When she pulls away and lowers her weapon, so does he. Neither takes their eyes off the other.

"You okay?" she ventures, because the look he casts her way is strung with a tangle of emotions she cannot pick apart.

Ben nods.

"Good." Rey drops her gaze and bites her lip before she can stop herself. "Do you want to go back now, or...?"

"We can go another round, if you want."

"Oh. Okay." It is not the answer she had prepared herself for. She takes a deep, deep breath and finds her footing. "Let's go."

This time he moves with more confidence. He is still holding back, keeping his strikes light so as not to hurt her if one lands, but it isn't necessary. As their makeshift blades dance and circle, she feels it at last—the Force opening between them, the connection deepening, the stream becoming a river. She knows where his strikes will fall before they begin. She moves in unison with him, to block and to counter, to circle and to thrust. If anyone had been watching, it would have looked choreographed, a dance more than a fight, and just as she knows where and when each blow will land, she knows when the match is about to end.

He thrusts. She whirls past it and into his waiting arms. He raises the stick to her throat. Hers presses into his side. They stay like that for the span of a few breaths and then he drops his practice blade, catching her by the shoulder and turning her to face him. He makes a show of taking her weapon from her, gently, and straightening her flyaway hair as if that is the main reason he has kept her so close. "It seems we're doomed to destroy each other," he intones softly, but he is smiling.

"We're both still here," she counters and, fighting down a sudden wave of timidity, she tips her head up to invite a kiss. 

He obliges her and the kiss is like their sparring match, a slow and gentle thing that escalates into more. His hands move to her hips, holding her close. Hers are on his face and sinking into his hair. Even as tangled and unwashed as it is, she can't get enough of it. It is one of her favorite parts of him, right along with his lips and his hands and his chest and...

Ben breaks the kiss, straightening up and taking a small step back. Rey follows him.

"Wait."

"Rey..." There is a warning in his voice, but she refuses to hear it. If he means to protect her, she won't have it. She knows what she wants and it is not that.

When she reaches out this time it is to lay a hand over his heart, her thumb plucking at the collar of his threadbare shirt. "I want to be close to you." Her other hand touches his cheek, traces a line where the scar used to be, lingering on the scratchy stubble at his jaw. "Please."

Though Ben does not speak, neither does he retreat again, so she takes both of his hands in hers, curling her fingers around his big meaty palms as best she can. When he reciprocates the gesture, she steps back, one foot and then the other, tugging until he follows. Across their dueling field she leads him, with cunning glances over her shoulder to find her way, until she comes to the place where she left her poncho. Here she lets him go, issuing a soft-spoken order of "stay here" and bending down to unfold the garment and spread it over the grass. At last, reclaiming Ben's hands, she guides him down with her.

There is a tension in the way he sits, a caution in the touch of his hands, but there is desire as well. Rey is the one who slides onto his lap, but it is Ben who locks his arms around her and pulls her snug against him. It is Ben who initiates the next kiss, long and slow and hungry, and then trails lighter kisses along the line of her jaw. The moist heat of his breath sends her heart to racing.

It is Rey who slips a hand under his shirt, exploring the smooth plains of his abdomen. It is Ben who responds readily when she pulls the shirt higher, shrugging it off with her help and letting it fall to the ground beside them. 

Rey lets her eyes trace the now-invisible line from his face to his chest. "It's still strange to see you without your scars."

Ben brushes his fingertips over the unmarred skin of her right arm. "Yours are gone too."

"The girl with those scars died," Rey says, and she meets his eyes. "So did the boy. We don't have to live their lives anymore."

A corner of Ben's mouth twists, caught between grimace and smile. "Let the past die," he echoes.

"It's already dead."

They don't talk for a while after that, content to explore each other in silence as, piece by piece, ever so slowly, they bare themselves to each other. Ben follows her lead through it all. When her shirt comes off followed by her breast wrap, his eyes flick up to meet hers, asking permission without speaking. Her answer is to take his hand and guide it to where she wants it. Even under her control, the press of his wide palm and the flighty tenderness of his fingers takes her breath away.

She keeps his hand there as she surges in for another kiss, coaxing more from him and more, fiercer, deeper, spearing her tongue past his lips to taste the hot cavern of his mouth. He responds with equal passion, but she is the one to take each next step. She is the one who grinds her crotch over the rising hardness between his thighs, earning a strangled moan the likes of which she has never heard from him before. She resolves to hear much more of it before they are done here.

She keeps her eyes on his face as she unclasps his belt by feel. She is watching for discomfort, for uncertainty, afraid she might be taking things further than he wants to go, but all she sees is wonder. Still, she asks, "Is this okay?"

Ben nods, and then as if he has lost the ability to speak aloud, he says into her mind, _Yes, anything you want._

 _Everything. All of you,_ she answers, and takes her weight off his lap long enough to tug his trousers down.

Rey has seen male genitalia before. She has even seen Ben's, back in mirror cave when she pulled him out, but she had tried not to stare. Now that she is actually _looking_ , the first thing she notices is the sheer size of him. The jokes she has heard about sex generally imply that bigger is better, so she counts this as a bonus.

He stands half-erect, arching eagerly towards her. She doesn't wait to think it over before she has him in hand, feeling out the length of him while he gasps and digs his fingers into the fabric of the poncho beneath them.

 _Still okay?_ Rey asks him with her eyes and with her thoughts.

The breath he sucks in makes his whole body shudder, but he nods.

Shucking off her own pants is done one-handed and without ceremony. Balanced on her knees over his lap with a hand on his cock, she holds out the other in supplication. When he places his hand in hers, she brings it down to the tuft of curly hair between her legs and to the petal-like folds of flesh it guards. She shows him where to put his fingers, which spot to rub with his thumb, and then she leaves him to it, closing her eyes and concentrating on the sensations as he learns her body. She feels his hot breath on her neck before he kisses her there, mouth open and wet as if to consume her. She leans into it, rocking her hips with two of his fingers inside her, drawing her hand up his length until he groans into the skin of her shoulder. She indulges in this for only a little while before she wants more, and directs him with a voiceless request to remove his hand and replace it with his cock.

On Jakku, Rey had rarely pleasured herself. It was a wretched waste of energy and, malnourished as she was, she seldom felt the need. With the Resistance, after meeting Ben, she had put a little more time into it, going so far on one particularly lonely night as to craft herself a toy. That item is still on the Falcon, in fact, tucked away in a hidden drawer in the crew quarters.

Point being that she knows what penetration feels like. It is not a completely new experience. Her little construct, however, has not prepared her for Ben's generous girth.

The stretch is painful, but a little pain is nothing. She takes him in slowly, haltingly, pressing down on him and then retreating, getting a little farther each time. She savors every inch of him until at last she is seated on him fully and he is trembling beneath her and for a long, precious moment all they can do is breathe.

The first rolling undulations are experimental, finding what feels best, how much and how far. Ben's hands have come to rest on her hips again, not impeding her, but providing a delicious source of pressure. As she grows bolder, surer, he begins to move in turn, small, tense twitches of his hips up to meet her as if he can’t quite control himself. His chin is still tucked over her shoulder, his hair soft where it touches her neck. His chest is so, so warm, a furnace blazing away behind his ribcage. Part of Rey wishes this would never end. She thinks better of that when he slips one hand between them in a precise way and that little bundle of nerves rubs against his knuckles with every move. _Now_ they are perfect. Now they could stay this way forever, joined in body and mind and soul, and to hell with the galaxy that had tried to keep them apart.

In spite of her wish, it does not last forever. Soon Ben is drawing a breath that hisses through his teeth, clutching her bony hips with his strong fingers and, for the first time, taking some control for himself. He shifts the positions of his legs to better brace himself and begins to thrust harder, and harder still, jolting her right to the core. As he does it again and again, knocking little puffs of breath out of her, she finds she likes it, dull ache and all. She likes the feel of being stuffed so full it hurts, just that little bit. She likes especially that it is Ben who makes her feel that way.

He climaxes suddenly, his rhythm devolving into erratic little jerks as the wave of sensation fills him up and crests over the bond and into her. Her own body responds, clenching around him until she is shaking with the tension. Rey has experienced orgasms before, on her own, but never like this—never with her Dyad mate. They are a feedback loop of ecstasy, each feeling what the other feels and amplifying it, back and forth until there is no telling where one ends and the other begins, until pleasure is a blinding light behind shut-tight eyelids and it holds them and embraces them for the span of a small eternity.

When it fades, ever so slowly, Rey finds that there is a new source of wetness on her shoulder, accompanied by the steady hitch of stifled sobs. She pulls back enough to look at Ben, bringing her hands up to his cheeks and dabbing his tears away with her thumbs. She could tell him it will be okay. She could say she is here for him, but he knows all of that. She could talk about what they just shared, the magic of it, but she fears she could not put it into words. It was bigger— _is_ bigger than anything she knows how to describe. This wasn't just sex. First time or not, she knows that much. This was the Force at its most beautiful, its most alive. No spoken language could do it justice, so instead she just smiles at him, feeling her own eyes mist over, and then she kisses him again.

They are slow to separate, reluctant to diminish the connection between them in any way, but the Ahch-To air is cold and getting colder as the heat of their exertion fades. Ben is the one who finally places his hands on Rey’s shoulders and puts a little space between them, making room for him to retrieve her discarded shirt and begin dressing her. She wrinkles her nose in distaste at this, but she cooperates, and her reward when her head pops through the collar is one of his rare and beautiful smiles.

The spell, though not broken, subsides enough that she is finally able to say something. "We should do this again sometime." She is trying to tease him, voice low, dropping her eyelids half-shut and dipping her chin in a playful attempt at seductiveness.

The expression on Ben Solo's face is full of such fondness that it hurts to look at, but she refuses to take her eyes off him. "Soon,” is his answer.

  
-< >-

Later, Ben tells Rey that he needs some time to himself. She is reluctant, perhaps even a little hurt at being left behind, but she swallows down the argument that he can see composing itself on her tongue. They share a long farewell kiss before he heads out of the village alone.

It is not difficult to find his way, although he has never walked this island before. The winding paths and stairs are easy enough to see from below, and there is something else—something that feels like instinct. Perhaps it is Rey's knowledge of the terrain seeping into his subconscious. Perhaps it is some other aspect of the Force. Ahch-To is rich with it, after all.

It has been a long time since he was last able to commune with the Force as a passive listener, to let its sea-like surges and eddies wash over him with no intention of bending them to his will. It has been a long time since he felt like the Force's friend and not its vain, false master.

With Snoke gone, with Palpatine gone, with his heart held safely in Rey's hands, he feels at peace in a way he has never felt before, even despite his purpose in climbing these stairs.

It is not just the Force he wants to hear and to speak to.

Up and up he climbs, following the twist and turn of the stone stairs, always with his eyes on the watchful shape of the temple above. He will go where the Light is strongest and he will face the dead, if they are willing.

It is a long climb. He is breathing hard before he reaches the top, muscles aching after too many days spent sedentary. A little discomfort is nothing, however. The pain is merely a reminder that he is alive. Against all odds, against even his own choices, he is alive. He is alive because Rey willed it, but he wonders—he hopes—that she was not the only one.

His uncle had said he would see him again. His mother had reached out to him. His father... His father had walked into Starkiller Base to bring him home. There are things he cannot forgive yet, and there are things he still must atone for, but for all of the mistakes, his and theirs, and for all of the doubt, they had loved him right up until each of their dying breaths. Perhaps they love him still.

It is not easy to think about. For so long, the voices only he could hear had told him otherwise. He knows now that it was all a lie. He knows that, but his heart is harder to convince than his head.

He feels his thoughts beginning to spiral downward into guilt and anger, so he stops that line of thinking. He clings to peace and to purpose, breathes out his fears and breathes in the cold, sea-scented air. He grounds himself in the physical, in the scrape of boots on stone and the hush of the breeze in the grass. He basks in the moment, in the life and Light all around him, and he tries his very best to look ahead.

The temple is a quiet place, but in no way does it feel abandoned. The atmosphere is thick with presence, with whispers just at the edge of hearing. It feels as if at any moment he might come face to face with another living being. He is used to the feeling of being watched, of never quite being alone, and this is a far less oppressive presence than Snoke's or Palpatine's was, so he does not let himself fear it.

There is a mosaic at the center of the temple—a depiction of the Prime Jedi. He has seen variations of the pattern before. This one is inset into the floor, shielded by a thin layer of water. He bends to touch it, seeking blessing, and then he moves on.

The temple exits onto a rough-hewn balcony, a protrusion of stone with a small raised dais at its center. A thousand Jedi have perched on this ledge. He can see them like afterimages, imprints in the Force. He can feel a trace of Rey's presence here, and he can feel his uncle, stronger than any other. The nature of the event branded into this place is unmistakable. This is where Luke Skywalker became one with the Force.

For the first time during this pilgrimage, his steps falter. As broken as his relationships with his mother and father were, nothing compares to what lies between him and Luke. Yes, Snoke and Palpatine and the Dark Side are to blame, but he had resisted them. He had held onto the Light for so long despite the ceaseless voices in his head. He had held on because Luke had told him too, because Luke encouraged him and taught him how. His parents had sent him away when his Force abilities manifested in violence. Luke had taken him in. Luke had promised to help him tame the monster that lived inside him. 

Luke had not warned Ben that there was a time limit, a deadline, and that at the end of it, if the monster was not tamed, Luke would take the task upon himself to slay it.

Luke had not warned Ben, but Snoke had, and when that warning came true, what was Ben to do except believe every other lie Snoke had fed him?

Luke, his uncle, had tried to murder him. There was no way around that. And to be fair, Ben has done his own share of murder, but even after everything, even knowing the truth of what Kylo Ren was, he cannot be sure that any of it would have happened had Luke not raised his lightsaber that night.

They have all made mistakes. There is nothing for it now but to move forward. 

Breathing out the tightness in his chest, breathing in serenity, Ben sits atop the stone dais.

The whispers that have lingered just beyond comprehension grow louder now, pressing closer around him. Then, in response to a command he feels more than he hears, they retreat.

A hand touches his face. Another, his shoulder. They are small hands. Soft. Hands he once knew as well as his own. Ben can't remember when he closed his eyes, but he opens them now and sees his mother. Her face is young, barely lined, the way he remembers it when he left her as a boy. Her hair is long and laced with only a few scarce strands of silver. Her eyes are bright and her smile is welcoming.

"Mom..." The word snags in his throat, jagged and difficult to choke it out.

"Hello, Ben. I missed you."

"I'm sorry."

"No, shhh." She hushes him with a kiss on the forehead. He can feel her as plainly as if she were alive, her breath on his skin, her voice audible to his ears and not just in his mind. "We're all sorry. It all went wrong and we can't change that, but you're alive. You can start over."

"Is Luke here?" The question is out before he can think better of it.

"He is." She sounds surprised. "He didn't think you'd want to see him."

He can't look at her when he answers, "I don't. Not yet."

Her fingers run through his hair, gently unraveling tangles. "When you're ready, he'll be here. Take all the time you need."

The tears have broken free and are running down his face. He leans into her touch. "It's good to see you, Mom."

"It's good to see you too, Son. You're a bit of a mess, though. When's the last time you had a bath?"

He raises his eyes to find a wry smirk on her face, familiar and heart-wrenching. Somehow, just for a moment, he manages to return it. "Well, I was dead for a week, and there's not much fresh water on this island. I haven't found where the fish ladies get theirs yet."

"You could ask," she points out flatly.

"Yes, but that would involve talking to people."

Leia chuckles and shakes her head. "Then ask your girlfriend. I imagine she'll be happy to lend a hand."

The shock of boyish embarrassment sends him reeling. "Mom!" 

The ghost, for her part, puts on a politician's face of false innocence. "What? We're adults here, darling. It's not like the whole island, living and dead, didn't know what you two were up to a few hours ago. You are both very loud in the Force..."

Ben groans and buries his face in his hands, wondering if he will ever be able to look his mother in the eye again.

Leia is laughing heartily and tugging at his hands with hers, coaxing him to show his face again. "I'm happy for you, Ben. I'm so happy for your second chance."

He feels himself grimacing. "More like my fourth chance. Or my tenth. Fiftieth, maybe."

A hand on his cheek quiets him. It's the same cheek, he notes, that once bore Rey's scar, and the same cheek his father touched before he fell. "It doesn't matter, Ben," she says. "It was a hard fight, but you made it in the end. That's all that matters."

"I don't think most of the galaxy would agree with you on that."

"To hell with them." This comes sharp enough to make him flinch. "You died for them. You gave them back their hero. You don't owe the galaxy anything."

It twists something in his chest to hear those words, and more to answer. "I don't know if I can believe that..."

"I'm sure Rey will tell you the same."

"Rey's opinion is about as biased as yours."

Leia's eyebrows furrow. It's the look she used to get when someone challenged her. "Bias doesn't mean I'm wrong. Surely you've learned that much with all your political endeavors of late."

Ben drops his gaze again. It is still so hard to look at her. "My political endeavors have mostly involved swinging a lightsaber at people... but I'll take your word for it."

She pats his cheek. "You do that." And then she is pulling back, severing contact with him, fading into luminous translucence. More and more she goes, and all he can do is watch her smile at him until she has vanished completely. _I love you, Ben._

His vision is blurring with tears again. He wonders how much more he has left to cry. "I love you, Mom."


	7. I Built A Home For You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "To Build A Home" by the Cinematic Orchestra
> 
> -
> 
> Chapter edited: 2/19/21
> 
> -

On the walk back down from the temple, Ben calls to Rey across the bond. _Will you meet me outside the village?_

 _Of course,_ comes her immediate reply in his head. _Are you alright?_

Her concern has him smiling to himself. _Yes. I want to talk._ He can feel her rush of joy at this announcement. It occurs to him then that they haven't truly spoken much since the mirror cave. His fault, of course, as most things are.

_I'll be waiting for you._

And she is. He spots her slim figure as soon as the grounds in front of the village come into view. He sees her smile soon after. At several paces away, she comes jogging to meet him as if she can't wait anymore. She doesn't stop until she is in his embrace. 

"I talked to my mother," is the first thing he confesses into her hair.

"What did she say?"

"She told me to take a bath."

Rey laughs and he can feel the vibrations of it against his chest. "You _are_ pretty wiffy."

"Sorry."

Despite the critique, Rey rubs her face on his shirt like an affectionate tooka cat. "I don't mind. People didn't bathe much on Jakku."

Ben can feel himself blushing. "She's right, though. Is there a... What do you use to bathe here?"

"There's the Falcon's shower." Without taking her head off his chest, Rey points inland, presumably toward where the ship is parked beyond the hills. "But if you don't want to use that, I know where there's a well. We'll have to go up to the ruins, though. Where Luke stayed..."

Ben looks back the way he'd just come. He remembers glimpsing the cluster of stone-walled domes down on the slope on his way to and from the temple. They had not looked as foreboding as he expected. Still, he considers the prospect carefully, weighing the strength of his heart against the weight of all his shadows. At last he says, "... I'm ready."

-

It was, he decides shortly after, a bit short-sighted to volunteer for a second hike up the island immediately after returning from his first. He makes a mental note to begin his daily exercises again, now that the lingering weakness from his resurrection has for the most part worn off. Maybe Rey will want to join him.

They walk arm in arm, taking it slow. Rey has brought her bag with spare clothes in it. Ben convinces her to let him carry it after a mild argument. Rey chatters along the way. Trivial things—the way the local avians had infested the Falcon for a while. The way she had kept breaking things during her first visit and her suspicion that the Lanai still dislike her for it. She tells him about watching the rain that day, how precious it was, and he tells her that it was the first time he learned how physical material could pass through the bond. Rey perks up at this, her eyes going wide and keen.

"We should practice it," she says, and of course she is right.

Ben offers her a wry half-smile. "Are you saying you need a teacher?"

At this, she grins back up at him and bumps him with her shoulder. "I'm saying we teach each other."

"We are good at that," he agrees, and though Rey falls into silence then, she holds onto him a little tighter.

One of the low-hanging suns bursts out from behind the clouds just as they step off the stairs and onto the flagstone walkway that weaves it's way between the ancient huts. The sun's rays reflects off the weather-worn stone and sets the very air alight, making Ben blink and squint. Rey seems more comfortable with the change, closing her eyes and lifting her face into the light, basking in what little warmth it provides. Ben finds, not for the first time, that he cannot take his eyes off her. He is caught by the net of russet freckles, the flutter of eyelashes on her cheeks, the upward curve at the corner of her mouth. The spell does not break until the hole in the clouds passes and the sun once again falls behind its veil.

"I was here when we... when we touched hands," Rey tells him.

"Here?"

"Well, in one of the huts," she specifies.

"Show me."

This provokes a slight grimace. "It's gone now. Luke destroyed it."

It takes Ben a minute to comprehend why his uncle would obliterate part of an irreplaceable Jedi ruin. Then it sinks in. "Ah. Of course. He tried to pull a building down on my head."

"It was in the heat of the moment." Despite her own excuse, Rey is cringing. 

"So was the time he drew a lightsaber on me."

"Ben..." Her hand tightens around his. "We can go back down, if you want."

He does seriously considers it. Instead, he takes a slow breath and squares his shoulders. "I'm not that much of a coward."

Rey doesn't seem convinced. "I mean it. There must be another well or a spring somewhere. The Lanai can't get all their water from up here."

"And then what?" It comes out harsher than he means it to. "I live with the Lanai indefinitely, sleeping on their spare couch? I have to face all of this eventually, Rey."

"I know." She sounds morose, like she wants to keep arguing but knows that she has lost. "I just... I don't like to see you hurt."

He looks at her, but her gaze is downcast. Already he is approaching emotional exhaustion. Speaking has quickly become a daunting task, but he finds the strength to soothe her. "I'm already hurt. This is the getting better part."

It's enough. The fight leaves her and she leans her head on his shoulder as they stand there at the edge of the ruined hermitage. After a few breaths, when she has regained her composure, she says, "The well's this way."

It is a small thing when they come to it, set low to the ground and covered by a stone lid. Under the shelter of the nearest dome structure is what Ben recognizes as a firepit like the one in the Lanai village, complete with a cauldron set beside it and the means to suspend it above. It is here Rey goes first, stepping past the firepit itself and kneeling to retrieve a set of items from a narrow nook built into the wall. One looks like a hand-carved wooden cup with a long handle—a ladle of sorts. The other is smaller and cloth-bound. Ben can't get a good look until she lays it out and unwraps it, revealing not one object but three. They are rocks, or they look that way, but they are not like the stones that form the architecture around them. The largest of these rocks Rey takes out and sets aside. The other two she leaves. "Firestarters," she explains, and then unclips her lightsaber and stands, summoning the blade and lowering it to the pile of used-up charcoal in the firepit.

What had looked like the burned out husks of fuel reignites.

"Burns better than wood and doesn't rot in the rain."

He squints at it through the flame, but it still looks like nothing more than ash. A Lanai secret, or a Jedi one, he guesses.

Letting the mystery go unanswered for the time being, he observes Rey as she moves back to the well and pushes the lid off, hauls up the bucket and dumps it into the cauldron. Again and again she does this. When Ben offers to help, she refuses him, so he sits and he watches her. He notes the precision and the confidence in every act, the efficiency of motion refined to conserve as much energy as possible. It is an entrancing sight. She was stunning when he first laid eyes on her in the woods of Takodana, and since then her beauty has only grown. She has put on weight and muscle over the last year. Her eyes are brighter, her hair more lustrous. He would adore her no matter what she looked like, but among all of the things that Ben Solo is, he is still a mortal, human man, and it is a mortal, human thing to admire the physique of his mate.

When the cauldron is full, she leaves the water to heat and comes to sit beside him, arms around her knees. "That one's soap." She points to the item from the bundle which she had set aside. "I can go back to the Falcon and look for more clothes, if you want. I think there's even something that may work as a towel."

Ben keeps his gaze on the hypnotic glow of the embers and says, carefully, "I would prefer if you stayed with me."

"Okay." And the look in her eyes is one of joy. "There's something else." She rifles through one of the small bags she always carries on her belt and brings out a flat metal case. Ben knows what it is before she opens it. "I forgot to pick this up when I went to get your clothes, but Alunda Cai went and told Beebee-Ate what I wanted and he showed her where to find it, so... here." 

The case is warm in his hands. He knows this is only because it was insulated and kept close to Rey's body, but it feels like more than that. It feels just like the residual warmth of his father's hands when Han had let him hold it and look at it as a kid, indulging his curiosity with only the casual warning of 'be careful, it's sharp.'

The latch clicks open just the way he remembers it. The razor itself has been replaced, but the elegant handle is the same, save for a bit more tarnish. The shaving set was a gift from Leia, or so his father told him. 'Your mom gave me this. It might not look it, but it's a priceless treasure. This old thing was made on Alderaan.'

He feels the tightness of grief in his chest and takes a minute to calm himself, counting breaths until his control is restored. "Thank you." He manages to say, and sets the case aside. "Let me get cleaned up first."

"I can..." In spite of all they've shared, Rey blushes and falters a little over the words. "I can help, if you want."

Ben's ears go hot. He isn't sure if its his own embarrassment or if hers is seeping through the bond. "I'd like that."

Gnawing on her bottom lip, she dips her fingers into the water to test its temperature and then says, straight and to the point, "Strip."

The single syllable sends a shudder down his spine. And yes, true, they can more or less read each other's moods, but still he wonders if she has any idea at all what she does to him.

The shirt comes off without a care, but he hesitates with his hands on his belt.

"I can still go if you want some privacy." Rey doesn't seem bothered. She is trying to make him comfortable and he is still not sure how he feels about this. He doesn't want special treatment, but a part of him is horribly, wretchedly fragile and nothing in the galaxy has touched him like the look in Rey's eyes when she worries.

"Stay if you want," he says, and she does.

When he is undressed and has pushed his clothes aside to spare them from the water, she beckons him nearer. "Bow your head and close your eyes." She says it as if it is nothing, as if receiving an order from her doesn't stop his breath or send his heart to hammering. More softly, she explains, "I'll wash your hair."

He does as she tells him. How can he not? He listens to the sound of the water in the cauldron being disturbed, presumably by the ladle, and soon a careful stream is being poured over his head, pleasantly warm. The now-familiar touch of her hand follows, parting the mats and tangles to wet his scalp. When she is satisfied with that task, she starts on the soap, lathering it up between her hands while Ben waits for the return of her touch.

There is an eroticism to kneeling naked and submissive under Rey's hands, but there is also more than that. There is one thing they have both wanted, needed, longed for more than anything else, and that is a family to look after them. To love them unconditionally. To share the burden of living when they are too tired to shoulder it alone.

After she has rinsed his hair and washed his face with careful strokes of her thumbs, her hands slide downward, massaging his neck and pausing to explore the ridge of his collarbone. That is where he halts her. "Let me do yours."

For a moment, she doesn't move. He can feel it in the Force. He can feel the way something in his words breaks her down and rebuilds her. The way it lances an old wound. She nods eventually, blinking back tears, and reaches up to untie her braids. 

He stops her with a hand on her arm. "Rey... On Alderaan, where my mother was raised, there were traditions to braiding hair." He swallows, but continues. "One of them regarded who was allowed to take your hair down. It was a… an intimate act. A maid could do it, of course, or family, but it was generally reserved for a lover."

He watches the corners of her mouth twitch upward. "Are you asking if you can take down my hair?"

Ben is blushing again and he knows it. "I... I just wanted you to know. I should have told you sooner."

She bites her lip like she's trying to stifle her smile. She fails. "It's fine. Please take down my hair."

He feels he could die happy—again—right then and there. "Turn around."

It is she who obeys him now, and she does so with a smile. He takes excessive care in unwinding her hair, letting each braid fall apart in his hands with all the reverence his mother once taught him. When that task is done, he helps her undress for the second time that day and they bathe each other in gentle silence. 

Before they dress, Ben gives himself a shave with his father's razor and the little mirror set into the lid of the case. Rey watches studiously, as if she plans on offering to help him with this job as well. He wouldn't object if she did. He isn't sure, at this point, if he could deny her anything.

She doesn't. Not this time. When he is finished and they are dressing in the cleanest of the spare clothes Rey brought, their skin still wet for lack of a towel or a warmer sun to dry under, Ben musters the courage to say, "We could stay up here, if you want to."

The sky above is darkening, painted in red and violet, the moon already high and shining on Rey's wet hair as if it can't quite wait its turn. "Stay as in just for tonight," she asks, "Or...?"

"Or for as long as we need to," he finishes.

"It would be nice to have more privacy." There is a cautious sort of hope in Rey's voice. "We can always go back to the Lanai if we need to."

"We can."

"I'll go and get the rest of our things." She is starting to stand up until he reaches out and touches her hand. It is all he needs to do. She stops in place and waits. 

"Do it tomorrow."

Rey looks at him with her eyebrows arched in a manner which translates across the bond as wary amusement. "I thought you didn't want to, uh... 'sleep in your dead uncle's bed', as you put it."

"We can take the blankets. Set up in a different hut."

"You'll be alright?"

"I think so."

Scouting out a suitable hut is no challenge, thanks to the dedication of the Caretakers. Every remaining building is stable and recently swept out. Rey leads the way from one to the next with an air of whimsy, finally lingering at a dome with a small window looking out over the ocean and a low sleeping platform wider than the one they’ve been sharing in the Lanai village. Rey offers to let him wait there while she goes to raid Luke's old hut for blankets, and Ben... Ben tries to argue, to steel himself and go with her, but in the end he cannot. His strength of will is stretched to its limit just by being this close. He still feels so fragile, so pitifully weak, and as Rey kisses him and tells him that she'll be right back, he hates himself for staying behind.

She won't take long, he knows that, but every second seems stretched in this haunted place. The voices of the dead don't help, whispering incoherently to him from between the stones of the ancient structure. Taking a seat on the hard edge of the bedframe, Ben buries his face in his hands and does his best to ignore them. He cannot help but wonder, though, what they think of him, these Jedi of old, for surely they can sense the traces of Darkness that still linger. Do they, like the Jedi of his grandfather's time, believe that a person once fallen can never truly return to the Light? 

Tai comes to mind again. For seven years he has banished that boy from his thoughts, but now, as he finds his way back along that same proverbial path Tai spoke of...

Tai had seen the Light in him. Tai had told him that he could turn. That he could choose. Would Tai say that now, after all the murder and the tyranny? Would Tai still believe in him the way Rey does, or would his old almost-friend have given up on him a long time ago?

_I do believe in you._

Ben does not look up. He is accustomed to resisting the urge to look for the voices in his head, even when they sound as if they are coming from right beside him.

_I saw what happened to you. Some of it, that is. I'm glad you came back._

"Tai..." The name comes hoarsely. Ben had not been prepared for this.

_I like your lady-friend. She suits you._

"Be careful," he mumbles into his hands. "You insult her."

_Nonsense._

"You're not jealous?" The question comes before he can think better of it. Then again, what does it matter? He is speaking to the dead.

_Maybe a little._

Ben huffs out something more or less like a laugh.

_Oh, she's almost back. Tell her I said hi and give her a kiss for me._

"wait, Tai—" He lifts his head now, but Tai is gone, if he had ever been there at all. A moment later, Rey steps through the doorway with a stack of blankets up to her chin.

"Was someone here?"

"Just a ghost," Ben says, and impresses himself with the blandness of his own words.

"Oh." Rey, of course, takes this answer in stride. "Were they kind to you?"

"More than I deserve."

She says nothing to that. She sets the assortment of moth-eaten blankets down and moves to stands beside him where he sits, sinking her hands into his hair and curling herself over him. There is something protective about her posture, as if with her body she can shield him from his own remorse. "You deserve kindness, Ben."

"Someday I might believe that."

He doesn’t have to see her face to know that she is frowning. Then, too soon, she steps back and grabs hold of his hand, giving it a tug. "Get up. You're in the way."

He cooperates, because of course he does, letting her usher him across the small space and out of her way before she sets to work with the blankets, spreading and layering them to cushion the unforgiving stone. When he sees what she is doing, he catches and straightens the corners opposite her until she comes to the last one in the stack—a quilted gray thing which she folds at the foot of the bed for later use. Having successfully assembled a proper place to sleep, she brandishes her arms in a 'tada' gesture and grins at him.

It should matter to him who used those blankets before, but somehow, right now, as he stands in Rey's radiance, it doesn't. Ben manages a dry smile and considers the prospect of applauding. He doesn't, but the smile is apparently enough. Rey comes to him with the grace of a hunter and takes hold of his hands again, leaning in to invite a kiss which he is more than happy to bestow. She is smiling into it, her giddiness like a breath of summer air in the chill of Ahch-To. Overtaken by a joyous whim, he brings his arms tight around her and lifts her off the ground, earning a yelp of surprise before she kisses him all the harder. Here in this moment, impossible as it is, nothing else matters—not his sins nor his sufferings, not his past nor his future. All that matters is that he and Rey are together in a place they can make their own. As long as he is with her, he is on the right path.

It is two steps to the bed where he sets her down, never breaking the kiss. He is hungry—starving—and he had never known how much so until he'd gotten a taste. He had held himself back earlier, terrified of hurting Rey, or of taking more than she wanted to give. He is not afraid now. He can feel her in the Force—feel the same hunger, the same desire, translated as best it can be in the questing of her hands and mouth. It is a mutual thing, the way he presses and she pulls until she is lying on her back and he is looming over her, and they are still kissing as they fumble their way out of their clothing for the third time that day.

"What..." Rey gasps when they finally have to break apart to accommodate the removal of her shirt, "was the point of putting all this back on?"

"You would have been cold," he suggests.

"You would have kept me warm."

It is the most sultry thing he has ever heard from her. Her voice alone is enough to steal his breath away. He gives up on trying to answer with words, finding other ways instead to use his mouth. Within moments it is Rey who gasps for breath, head thrown back as he devours her throat with open-mouthed kisses. He can't get enough of her, of touching her. He doubts he ever will. Their duels on Takodana, on Starkiller Base, on Kijimi and Kef Bir were dear to him, each one a precious memory, having been moments when the bond was at its strongest. What they share now feels like the natural evolution of those moments, nevermind the contrast between locking lightsabers and locking lips. It feels right. Nothing ever felt right in his life until the day he met Rey.

He kisses his way down to her collarbone, then farther still to the canyon between her pert little breasts. One of these he cups a hand over, caressing reverently while he continues his southward path. Her belly delights him in the most surprising way, rising and falling with her breath, twitching when he kisses it. She lets out a muffled sound, somewhere between a squeal and a moan, and Ben's body tingles all over in response to it. He wants more. He wants to hear every sound of pleasure he can conjure from her.

When his fingers hook into the band of her pants, she arches her hips for him eagerly, shimmying her way out of the garment with his assistance. It makes Ben chuckle, which makes Rey grin, which is the loveliest sight to see before he guides her legs apart and ducks his head to kiss the soft skin of her inner thigh. Rey _whines,_ shooting a hand down to clutch at Ben's hair, but rather than pull him away, she pushes him closer, projecting in the Force a surprisingly clear image of what she would like him to do to her next.

Ben thinks only for a moment about what his mother said regarding how 'audible' the two of them were. When that moment is up, he decides he doesn't give a womprat's ass. If it bothers the ghosts so much, they can go haunt somewhere else. Rey's happiness comes first.

And so will she this time, if he has any say in it.

She is slick and tastes of salt, pink as a flower and enticingly warm to the touch. He envelopes her with his mouth, mapping her folds and the ingress they conceal. He laps up the syrupy fluid and delves his tongue into her depths, staying with her as she arches her back and lifts her hips off the bed. He finds that special little nub and listens to the sound of his name on her lips. He never thought he would love his own name the way he does when Rey speaks it. Now he can hardly remember why he used to hate it.

"Ben," she says again, giving his hair a firm tug. 

He lifts his head enough to look across the landscape of her body and meet her eyes, feeling smug. "Hmm?"

She tugs his hair again. "Up here."

He obeys, surging forward until he looms above her again, hands braced to either side of her shoulders.

Rey hauls his head down and kisses him soundly. "Trousers off," she orders when they part, and stars does he love it when she gets bossy.

"Yes, Master Jedi."

She snorts, but she lets him get away with it, watching keenly as he sits back on his knees to follow her command. Just like the first time, there is no hesitation when she comes forward and reaches to take hold of him. "My turn." And then, before he can fully process what is happening, she is folding herself over and drawing him into her mouth.

It is only a little of him, and only for a moment as she tests the prospect, but it is enough to make his brain short-circuit. Then she does it again and it takes a great deal of willpower not to slam his hips forward. He mustn't, though. He mustn't do a thing to hurt her, even a little. Unless, of course, she asks him to.

He had, after all, felt the way she liked it the first time.

Rey puts her hands on his hips, soothing him with her gentleness and providing a counter-pressure for him to lean into. Then her mouth is on him again, around him, her hot breath sending tremors up his spine. "Kriff, Rey..." She pulls back enough to look up at him, her lips hovering over the tip of his cock, and he has never felt less worthy of her. "Where the fuck did you learn this?"

The way she smiles leaves him feeling like his heart may stop. "You did it to me just now. And people talk."

"People talk..." He gives his head a shake of disbelief, not at her explanation, but at the fact that any of this is happening at all. Easier to believe he is still dead on Exegol than here in his uncle's hermitage with Rey's mouth on his cock.

"Should I stop?" she asks, and she means it. She is searching him with her eyes and her soul, looking for any sign of discomfort.

"No." Simple as the word is, it comes out choked, accompanied by a pressure behind his eyes that warns of tears. "Please don't."

Rey grins at him, all flushed cheeks and wet lips and glittering hazel eyes, and then she dives down again, getting as much of him inside her mouth as she can manage. When she starts moving her head up and down, he sees white.

"Rey, Rey, Rey, stop."

Immediately she pulls back again. "Not good?"

He hadn't noticed he was holding his breath until he sighs. "Too good. Can we... I want... I won't have anything left for you if you don't stop." And he truly _had_ wanted to see her climax before him this time.

Rey's smile is far too innocent for the words that follow. "That's fine. You'll still have your tongue."

Ben can only groan and let his head fall back, staring at the ceiling without seeing it. He cannot articulate an answer for her, but he can open the bond enough to let her read his thoughts. She laughs low, a rumble of delight, and resumes her experimentations.

He was right. He doesn't last long. How can he when Rey, his Light, his soulmate, his beautiful and feral temptress is attempting to devour him an inch at a time? What she can't claim with her hungry mouth, she takes with her hand, caressing the base of him and then squeezing, testing how much and how far by the sixth sense that is the bond between them.

Ben is weeping when he comes. He cannot explain why and he cannot bring himself to care. Rey licks him clean with the same air of enthusiasm and curiosity with which she has approached the entire process. Then she moves up to kiss away his tears, lingering to watch his face while his heart rate slows and his breathing steadies. Overwhelmed by the tangle of emotion and sensation, unable to pull one apart from the rest, he drops his head to her shoulder and lets himself be soothed by the rightness of her. Of them. One of her hands finds his hair, massaging the back of his neck, while her other arm wraps tight around him, as if trying physically to keep him from falling apart. Perhaps it works. He is not long in regaining his composure, for after all, he still has a job to do.

Ben lifts his head enough to kiss her again, easing her back down onto the bed as he does. Now they are nearly where they started, coming full circle as he trails a hand down her torso to find the center of her pleasure. She is dripping wet still, easy to slip a finger inside and then another. She squirms and writhes and smiles up at him in every brief moment when their mouths aren't locked together. He finds that nub of nerves again and presses down, explores the firmness of it within its shroud of loose-fitted skin. He lets himself feel what she feels, shuddering at the heat and the tension pooling in his—in her—belly. Twitching at the sharp spark of sensation where he touches her. He measures her pleasure as his own and brings her steadily upward, upward, upward until she crests in a convulsive wave, biting her lip on a reedy wail. He coaxes two trembling aftershocks out of her before he lets her rest, sliding his drenched fingers free and trailing them up her heaving abdomen. He watches her face as she drifts downward from her peak, slow as a falling feather. He notes the blissful glaze over her eyes and the way her kiss-swollen lips part for breath. He memorizes the way she looks up at him and the way she smiles again ever so slightly. Even though they have done this once before already, she is filled to the brim with wonder. She is joyous. Their new reality still feels like a dream and she has wanted this for so very long.

_You'll always have me. For as long as you want._

"Forever," she answers aloud, and he is just fine with that.


	8. Every Wall I Lean On Transforms To Sliding Doors And Thin Air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Kansas" by Vienna Teng 
> 
> -
> 
> This chapter is the middle of a clean-up edit. Gimme a bit. :p
> 
> -

Rey can't remember the last time she woke so comfortably. Hard as the stone is with only the few layers of blankets between it and her, she is accustomed to sleeping on worse, and although rising early is her norm, it is deeply tempting to snuggle up to the warm body beside her and let the morning pass her by.

She can sense Ben beginning to rouse as soon as she does, so attuned are they that his mind and body react to hers. It seems a shame not to let him rest, so she makes up her mind and wriggles herself as close to him as she can, tucking her face under his chin and murmuring, "go back to sleep."

The second time she wakes, it is because he's woken first. He is watching her, gaze gone tender, face free of the usual lines of stress and grief. When she meets his eyes, he smiles.

"Sleep well?" he asks her.

Rey nods, then yawns. "I feel like I could stay in bed all day."

"Do you want to?" He sounds serious.

It is sorely tempting, but... "We shouldn't."

His arm comes over her, heavy and soothing, the weight of it seeming to press all trace of tension out of her. "Why not?"

Rey sighs and almost allows herself to doze off again, surrounded by the warmth of him. Naturally that's when her stomach growls. "Because I'm hungry," she translates.

Ben huffs out a breath of air, an unvoiced laugh, and sits up, his hand lingering on her back. "Stay here. I'll make you breakfast."

"What? No, you don't have to—"

"Please," he says, and she is learning that he can stop her in her tracks with that word alone. "I want to."

Rey lays back in her nest of blankets and admires the shape of him in the low light. "Well, if it'll make you happy..."

"It will."

And after all, his happiness is what matters right now, so she smiles and says, "Alright," and she watches him pull on his clothes and sift through their bag for the rations she stashed there. It comes as a surprise, a little, to feel a twinge of anxiety in watching him take them. He would never steal her food from her, she knows that, but there are shades of Jakku that haunt her still.

He stands with two of the nutrient bars in hand, but then hesitates, glancing back to her with concern in his eyes. "I'm just taking them to the firepit. I can make something nicer out of them."

Rey sits up. "I'll help."

"That defeats the purpose."

"What purpose?"

"Breakfast in bed."

She furrows her brow at him, sure that she is missing something. "Why would you... eat breakfast in bed?"

Ben chuckles—a precious sound to her ears. "It's something people do for each other. My... My parents used to do it sometimes."

"Okay, then I'll help and we'll both come back and eat here." Rey throws her legs over the side of the bed, but Ben is shaking his head, radiating amusement.

"The point is to let me take care of you. I'll make the food. You rest."

It pulls on something inside her—that same something she had felt when they bathed each other and every time he braided her hair. She swallows down her restlessness and sinks back into the blankets, smiling up at him tentatively. "There's some dishes in Luke's hut, but... I could go get them, if you need me to." 

She starts to get up again, but he says quickly, "No. I can do it," and though she is loathe to let him face this alone, he sounds more sure of himself than he did before. If he thinks he can handle it, then she will trust his judgment. 

"I'll be here if you need me," she promises, and he moves in to kiss her on the forehead before he leaves the hut.

Rey lays still, but it's not easy to enjoy the luxury without Ben beside her. In her head, she reminds herself over and over that he is taking care of her. That she doesn't have to do anything. That she doesn't have to work or fight for a meal. That she isn't on her own… She repeats it like a mantra, but only gradually is she able to relax. Eventually she rolls over and squirms around until she has achieved the most comfortable position possible—curled up on her side with the blanket over her head, and despite her struggles, she has almost dozed off again by the time Ben comes back.

"I see you've become one with the bed," Ben says, and when Rey works her way out from under the blanket, it is to see him holding two wooden bowls with steam rising tantalizingly from whatever is inside them. "Is our dyad a triad now?" As much as it is a treasure to hear such humor from him, she is too distracted by the prospect of food to come up with an answer. She breathes in deeply and smells... well, it does smell like the ration bars, but better, hot and full of moisture. She sits up in a hurry to accept the bowl he offers, all but sticking her nose in it to savor the appetizing aroma.

"How did you make this?"

There is a relaxed sort of pride in his smile. Every day, Rey is witnessing some new aspect of him. Every day, she gets to know Ben a little better. "Those ration bars aren't just for eating dry," he says, and presents her with a spoon before dropping into a cross-legged seat on the floor with his own bowl. "Break them up and boil them in water and you get this."

It's a hot mash. The water softens the sharp, meaty flavor of the nutrient bars. They had not been the generic rations she is used to in the first place. The Resistance took whatever food it could get from wherever it could get it, as long as they weren’t leaving anyone else on their side bereft. These compact, chewy bars had just happened to be what made up the bulk of the food supplies when Rey left. She had liked them well enough on their own, but Ben has turned them into a treat.

"These dishes look like the ladle from the well," Ben observes conversationally, turning his spoon this way and that. "Did Luke make them?"

Rey hastily swallows the mouthful of food she has just taken, scalding her throat somewhat in her hurry. "I don't know. He didn't talk much about his life here."

"Really?" Ben sounds surprised, or at the very least, sardonic. "No boring lectures about skills you think you'll never have use for?"

"Just the Force, and that's been useful enough." And neither had the lectures been boring, in her opinion, despite Luke's gruffness.

There is a note of cautiousness in Ben's voice when he asks, "What did he say about it?"

Rey sets down the bite of mash she'd been about to eat. "He said the Light and the Dark are only parts of it. That the Force is more than just the Sith and the Jedi, and that it would all still go on without them."

Ben doesn't smile, but she can feel his bitter amusement. "He changed his tune, then."

It is not Rey's place to tell him he ought to forgive his uncle. She is not entirely sure that _she_ has forgiven Luke yet, so all she says is, "Yeah, I guess so."

He doesn't say anything after that, so she goes back to slurping up the hot food. "I'll go get more supplies from the Falcon later," she muses between mouthfuls. "There's some dried fruit and spices that would make this even better." She could stock up on more of everything while she was there, since she has no idea how long they will be staying.

"I'll keep going through Luke's things," Ben offers. "There's bound to be more we can use."

"You don't have to." She says it before she realizes that she's repeating herself.

"It's fine."

Rey worries. She probably always will, but maybe confronting his past is what he needs. Maybe it will help. "Okay."

They continue their meal in a cozy sort of silence. Rey may be anxious for him, but on Ben's side of the bond, there is resolve. He is tired of being afraid.

When she is finished, she scans the hut for her clothes from the night before, spots them strewn just over the side, and shimmies out from under the blanket to retrieve them. The Ahch-To air is as cold as usual and she moves with graceless haste, but she can feel Ben's eyes on her all the same. Rey of Jakku has never thought herself beautiful. It had never been a concern either way, between surviving as a scavenger and fighting for the Resistance. Vanity had been the last thing on her mind. Now, though… Now Ben's admiration is a glow lighting up the bond between them. It makes her blush and fumble for words, so she pulls on her clothes and plops down next to him, settling simply on, "Thanks for breakfast."

"You're welcome."

"I was... I was thinking we could spar some more. I'll have to go back to get our practice sabers, or find something else, but..."

"Yes," he says. "But don't go yet." And he wraps an arm around her, drawing her closer. "You'll get a cramp after eating so much."

Rey chortles at that, but she is more than happy to snuggle in and soak up his warmth while she digests.

-

It is still no more than mid-morning when she makes her way back down to the Lanai village. Ben goes with her, offering to help carry things, but mostly, she senses, he just wants her company. When they are roughly half way down the long, switchback stairs, he starts to talk. 

"Luke used to take me to all sorts of Jedi ruins like this one. He was desperate to learn anything he could about our heritage."

"Find anything interesting?"

"Sometimes." His voice was deceptively casual. "There was one time we... We visited Coruscant. The Jedi Council was based there before the Empire wiped them out. There's nothing left in the temple, but you can find anything on Coruscant if you know where to look. Black markets, private libraries... We found more there than anywhere else. Documents and holo recordings. Even some of my grandfather."

"What was he like?" Before the Dark side, she doesn't add.

"Confident," Ben says. "He seemed confident. Arrogant, even, but why wouldn't he be? They told him he was the Chosen One."

When he pauses there, Rey prods. "What does that mean?"

"He was supposed to balance the Force. Single-handedly. Why would you tell a kid that?"

She recalls her own uncertainty back on Tatooine, and there is no need to ask him if he ever felt the same. It reverberates across the bond. No wonder he related so much to his grandfather, she thinks, what with the pressure of being the last of his bloodline.

"Was Luke right, then?” Rey queries gently. “About the Jedi?"

"Yes." Ben is looking away from her, out over the slopes of the island. "At their end, at least. It was their own fear that destroyed them."

"Fear of the Dark Side?"

"Yes."

Rey doesn't know what to say to that. To think that even the legendary Jedi Order could fail under the weight of the Darkness... More and more, she understands Kylo Ren.

There is no greeting when Ben and Rey arrive back at the cluster of seaside huts. They receive a few sidelong glances from the Lanai, but not a one of them stops what they are doing. Rey doesn't mind. She is no stranger to that sort of industrious focus. All the same, when she sees the familiar face of Alunda Cai, she explains, "We're staying at the old Jedi village for now. We've just come back to get our things."

The young Caretaker gives a bland acknowledgment and points in the direction of their former sleeping space, which looks just as they left it.

"Thank you for your hospitality."

Alunda Cai waves off the thanks, but not unkindly, and bustles off to continue whatever Rey had interrupted.

Their practice weapons are still tucked underneath the platform. Rey double-checks for anything else they might need, but almost all of it had gone into the pack she took with her. Only the blankets and her poncho lay where she left them, so she gathers those up along with the sticks.

"I can help," Ben offers, but Rey hefts the awkward bundle and adjusts her footing.

"I've got it," she insists, and he does not argue, but he looks like he wants to.

It is as they are stepping through the village gates, as Rey is dreaming fondly of the hours and days that lay ahead—of the sparring, shared meals, and sensual nights... As she thinks to herself that all will be right, the bulky disc of the Millennium Falcon comes sweeping over the peaks, freezing them in their tracks, and lands on a not-quite-flat patch of earth just in front of them.

Beside her, Ben goes stiff all over. 

Rey lets her armload of salvage fall with a clatter and bolts for the loading ramp as soon as it begins to descend, leaping aboard before it touches the ground. One hand is on her lightsaber, for although there is no immediate sense of danger, something is clearly wrong. She reaches the cockpit in what must be record time, only to skid to a halt in bewilderment at the sight before of her. BB-8, suspended in the air by his tethers, has his grasping arm on the yoke and all of his wires and plugs attached to the various control panels surrounding him. As soon as the Falcon settles into its standby mode, he disconnects in a flurry and thunks to the floor, flicking one last switch on his way down.

The comm light flashes and Poe's figure appears in blue-lit miniature.

 _"Rey, it's Poe. The base is under siege. I repeat, the Resistance base is under siege. We can't get off Ajan Kloss. I don't know how much longer we can keep the shields up. We need you back here. I don't know how, but... they're using the Force."_ As Rey stares and struggles for words, the image flickers and the message begins again.

A heavy footstep falls behind her in tandem with a sinking sense of dread. She spins to look at Ben, who is standing in the corridor just outside the cockpit and seems unable to come any farther. "You have to go."

"Not without you."

"They'll kill me."

"No."

His shoulders sag and he lowers his voice. "Rey..."

She widens her stance, bares her teeth in response. "I'm not leaving you behind."

"I'll be fine, Rey."

"What if you're not?" _What if I'm not?_ She lets him hear her worries, even those unspoken. This isn't the time to hold back.

"Your friends will die if you don't go."

"Then come with me!"

Ben braces one hand on the frame of the hatchway and scrubs at his face with the other. "Rey... you're asking me to surrender myself to the Resistance."

"No! I'm asking you to help them. To help me. I won't let them hurt you."

"I don't know that you'll be able to stop them..."

"They need us," she persists. "They're not going to kill you after we show up and save them." And she is afraid— _terrified_ —of being apart from him.

"You have a lot of faith."

"I know them." But does she, though? Can she be sure? She exhales, trying to calm herself enough to think critically. "I'll call Poe back. Tell him you're coming."

Ben doesn't say anything to that, but after a breath, his hand falls away from his face and he stares hard at the insulated hull of the ship, his presence like a stormcloud turning around and around itself, not quite a hurricane yet, but not far off. As she watches, he reaches out to touch the off-white surface, as warily as if it might bite him.

BB-8 whistles a question about calling Poe back, but Rey shushes him, her eyes on Ben. His are mapping every bump and crevice in the Falcon's inner skin. "Are you alright?" She knows that he is not, but she needs to hear some sort of response from him.

At first, he doesn’t give her one. Then, as if breaking free of a spell, he gasps, shudders, and withdraws his hand. "Call him, then."

Rey scoots into the pilot's seat and does just that. "Resistance Base Ajan Kloss, this is Rey. Please respond." When no reply comes, she repeats, "Resistance Base, come in." A loud thump from behind her makes her jump in her seat. A nervous glance over her shoulder reveals Ben drawing his fist back from the hull. She frowns and tries again. "Resistance Base, this is Rey. Does anyone copy?"

 _"Rey!"_ It is Rose Tico who appears in holo form, tiny and ribboned with static. _"You got Poe's message?"_

"Yes." Rey doesn't know how she keeps her own voice level. "Where's Poe? I need to talk to him."

_"He's busy. We're kind of under attack! Are you coming or not?"_

Judging by Rose's tone, there is no time for vagueness. "Tell him Ben Solo is with me."

That gets her attention. _"What?! You mean Ky—"_

"I mean Ben Solo," Rey snaps. "He is coming with me and the Resistance is not to hurt him. He's an ally. You tell Poe that."

_"Uh... Hang on."_

She retreats out of the holo's range, reducing the image to a formless flicker. Rey glances back at Ben again, but he has not moved and he still doesn’t look her way.

After a significant wait, Poe Dameron appears, looking every bit the harried rebel leader. _"Rey, what the hell is going on? Rose said something about Kylo Ren?"_

"His name is Ben." She doesn't mean the words to come out as sharp as they do, but if it makes an impression, it's just as well. "He's on our side, and he's coming with me. Under _my_ protection. Do you understand?"

_"Rey, this is..."_

"I can't come back if he's not safe."

Poe's voice is as strained as her own. _"Rey, he's the_ Supreme Leader. _"_

That is when Ben at last crosses the threshold into the cockpit and shoulders Rey—gently—out of the way, leaning in with his hands white-knuckled on the panel. His voice is deep and growling, his teeth flashing blue in the light of the holo. "I am defected from the First Order and I will not harm your Resistance. My allegiance is to Rey."

Poe makes a face of horror and slams a hand down onto something unseen in front of him. The comm cuts off.

Ben sighs deeply and turns to face Rey, still visibly tense. "Go. Leave me behind."

"I can't."

"Rey..."

"We'll figure something out!"

"Your friends need _you."_

She wants to fall into his arms, but she is afraid to touch him—afraid he won't accept it. Afraid he will push her away. Instead, she hugs herself. "I need you."

His walls are up. It is harder and harder to read him in the Force, but there is something like despair in his beautiful eyes, and something like resolution. He looks at her for a long time before he says, "... Fine. Let's go."

It is difficult to take her own eyes off of him as she reaches for the comm control and squeezes herself into range of the holo again. Ben shuffles out of the way belatedly, as if so lost in his own head that he had forgotten, momentarily, the physical world.

Pitching her voice low but firm, Rey re-enters the code and sends her message. "Poe? Resistance base? This is Rey with Ben Solo. We're on our way to help."


	9. In My Field Of Paper Flowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... it’s been a month since I last updated and I’m still not happy with this chapter, but at this point I figure I should just push on forward. Sorry about the wait. I did warn you, though.
> 
> Chapter title from my favorite teenage angst song, “Imaginary” by Evanescence.
> 
> -

Ben had planned to visit the Falcon on his own time, when he felt ready… or as close as he could ever be to ready. Like everything else he had once forsaken, it looms large in his thoughts, haunting him, plaguing him, and the only way to satisfy that ghost is to confront it.

But this is too soon.

Rey is in the pilot's seat, looking like she belongs, her hands sweeping over the controls with confident familiarity. The shakiness of the ship's ascent is no fault of hers. If the piece of junk had ever been a smooth ride, it was before Ben can remember. As a boy, he had assumed all ships were like the Falcon until he had the opportunity to ride with his mother in the latest model of Nubian cruiser. He has no recollection of which political visit that was, nor even what planet they had gone to, but he remembers the ship. He remembers how it made him feel with its sleek, spotless interior, its whispering engines, and the fluidity of every tilt and turn. It had flown like a dream.

The Falcon flies only slightly better than something which has sat in a junkyard for a few years, and that, as he understands it, is exactly what happened. It rattles up off of its landing gear. It chugs and rumbles its way out of the atmosphere. It quivers to a near-stop and then, with a buck like a wild beast that has Ben holding onto whatever he can reach to steady himself, it leaps into the violet whirl of hyperspace.

"Sorry," Rey says, and her voice is a grounding point of reality in the deep expanse of memory. "I've done what I can with the stabilizers, but it's hard to find parts that fit this model."

"I know where Han kept spares." He speaks without thinking, for if he were to stop and think, the weight of it would lock his jaw shut.

"Oh, good." She is twisting in her seat to smile at him. "After we've saved the Resistance, we can fix the Falcon."

It all catches up with him then. Even the speed of hyperspace cannot outrun it. When he doesn't answer, Rey's attention is drawn back to the gauges and read-outs in front of her, and Ben quietly shuts the door on their bond and slips away.

The Millennium Falcon is not like he remembers it. There is more wear and tear, naturally, but what stands out to him the most is how much smaller everything looks. It isn't, of course. It's him that has changed, but the difference makes his old memories feel like a dream.

Dream or not, he could navigate these holds and corridors with his eyes closed. His earliest wish had been to fly this ship. He would always know it by heart.

The crew quarters still has the three beds he remembers—the widest one inset into an extension of the hull and the other two open. The kitchenette has survived as well, and still, to his surprise, it looks functional, though the cramped space in impressively packed with small boxes and stacks of miscellanea. Some of it is food-related. Most of it not at all.

Ben sits down on the bed to the left of the door and runs his fingertips along the edge, searching for the rough patch that marks where he once etched his name into the metal. The Aurabesh, when he finds it, is unevenly sized and sloppy in the manner of a child's writing. How old had he been? Four or five, he thinks. He hadn't properly known how to spell at the time and had needed his father's guidance.

His father...

The childhood memory morphs into one from a day more recent. His father's face is old, lined with bitter sorrow. Ben feels his own hands move, but cannot stop them. He feels the hard casing of his lightsaber through tight leather gloves. He feels his index finger find the ignition switch, hears the hissing shriek as the blade is brought to life at the expense of another. He sees the shock and pain in his father's eyes, but worse than that, he sees the acceptance. He sees, impossibly, love. His father wavers, tumbles, falls, and Ben falls too, back into the homey light of the crew quarters and the haunting familiarity of his childhood bed. Reality feels less real than the memory had. For a time, all he can do is sit with his head in his hands and wait for the spell to end.

When he can breathe again, Rey is there, sitting beside him with her hand on his back. She has been there for a while. Slowly, delicately, he loosens his mental deathgrip on their bond enough to let a trickle pass through.

"Better now?" The question is as quiet as a breath, as if she fears she might startle him.

He cannot make himself speak, so he shakes his head, but there is no judgment from Rey. Only compassion. It is a tentative thing, the way she pulls him closer to her, the way her free hand finds his and holds on tight. The way her lips press into his hair. She holds him this way a long time and she does not say a word.

Eventually, when Rey's warmth has burned away the vividness of his memories, Ben speaks. "I don't have a weapon." The non sequitur has her pulling away to look at him, so he clarifies. "To fight with. For the Resistance."

"You have your kyber crystal," she points out matter-of-factly.

"I don't know... I don't know how to heal it, Rey. I don't know if I can." It is his despair talking. A part of him knows that, but self-loathing is not an easy foe to conquer.

"You healed me."

He did, but how could he not? It had been the only real choice there was, and once he began, it had come like instinct.

"The crystal wants you to heal it," she reminds him. "I think it will help."

Doubt claws him, almost a physical pain at the inside of his skull, but bit by bit he is able to wrestle it under control. "Will you..." His voice comes hoarse. "Will you stay with me, while I try?"

Rey smiles. He isn't looking, but he knows it. He can hear it in her voice. "Of course."

The sleeping quarters seem as good a place as any to do this. For one thing, he isn't sure he can face any other memories attached of the Falcon right now. He moves down to the cold metal floor and sits with his legs crossed in the manner Luke taught him. Rey settles into place behind him, barely letting a moment pass before her hand is on him again, coming to rest on his shoulder.

 _Is this okay?_ She asks it without speaking, and he sends back a wordless affirmative.

The crystal is warm when he draws it out, and not just from absorbing his body heat. It pulses in his hands, shining a red that darkens to near-black where the jagged crack divides it. Ben draws in a deep breath and releases it slowly, trying to banish the tension left over from his momentary breakdown. He remembers Exegol after the battle, of holding Rey in his arms and letting everything else go. How certain he was then, in the end. How clear his path. Breathe in. Breathe out. Center the mind on the task at hand.

When he feels somewhere in the vicinity of calm, he clasps his hands around the crystal and listens.

The stone sings to him as it always does, as it had even in the darkest of times. Its song is stronger now, louder than it has been in years. It is eager. Anxious. Rey is right. The crystal wants to be healed, and after all of the abuse it has suffered by his hand, he owes it that much at the very least.

He does not know how to heal a kyber crystal, but he knows how to heal a living person, and if there is any luck in the galaxy, it will work more or less the same.

He breathes in recycled ship air and breathes out power. He is stronger than he was on Exegol, both in mind and in body, but it still takes longer than it should to find his concentration and widen the channel between himself and the kyber. It has been years since he approached it with kindness rather than aggression. The stone seems to cower even as it lets him in.

 _I won't hurt you. I'm sorry._ He is not sure, entirely, whether he only thinks the words or speaks them out loud. He is sure that the crystal understands his intent. Its response is subtle, but there is a definite change. It feels almost like an extension of himself, like another limb, if such a thing could have a mind of its own.

It feels like Rey in that way.

The stone lets him in, lets him feel its inner Light, still present, still waiting in the face of all that has tried to extinguish it. It lets him feel it, see it, and then it draws him further, pulls him in until it seems to Ben that physical space has fallen away and he is somewhere entirely new. Perhaps it is his own mind conjuring images out of memory or dream, for he cannot think why a sentient rock would surround itself in the illusion of a sunny meadow.

The grass is thick under his boots, the air warm on his skin. It is a soothing place. An inviting place. He sinks to the ground before he knows what he is doing, first to kneel, then to sit, for the grass is as lush and soft as it looks. Softer, even. Soft as a fine bed...

He wants, quite suddenly and desperately, to lie down and close his eyes. He wants to stay here for a while, to stay where the galaxy cannot find him. He could escape the guilt, the scorn, the anguish of being who and what he is. He could stay here in this gentle place for as long as he likes. He is so damn tired, and has been for so long... If he stayed here, he could rest.

It is his own want, but it is also more than that. It is what the kyber crystal has built this place to be—not the physical manifestation of it that Ben sees, but the feeling. The sense of safety. The crystal has done what many sentient beings do under sustained suffering. It has escaped into its own self, deep enough that it may ignore the outside world altogether. It must have only risen up out of this resting place when Kylo Ren demanded it, and later when Rey came to its rescue.

"I'm sorry," he tells it again, because he can never say so enough. "We can't stay here. It's time to make things right." And oh, it is difficult to comply with his own words when to go back means to face the righteous fury of the Resistance—to face those whom his mother had loved and guided. He might hate them still if they were not her people, and if they were not also Rey's.

The deciding factor, of course, is that to stay here inside of himself would mean to hide from Rey, and no peace could ever be worth that loneliness.

He pushes the false haven away, pushes until he can no longer feel the touch of the grass or the sun on his skin, nor smell the fragrance of flowers nor the illusory wind. He pushes it away, but he holds onto the string, the line, the channel that binds him to the kyber that chose him. He offers his lifeforce and the stone accepts. It pulls and it takes and it fills itself with his essence, and the shape of that essence is Light. The stone burns the Darkness out of itself and all Ben has to do is give.

  
-< >-

  
One moment, all is still. Even the ambient sounds of the ship seem far away. Only the slow rise and fall of Ben's breath under her hand assures her that time itself has neither stopped nor left her behind. Then there is a surge of Light and power as the connection between them bursts wide open and Ben is clinging to the structure of her mind even as he slumps forward, boneless under her touch.

He catches himself at the last moment with one hand, the other clutched in a fist and held tight to his chest. Rey leans around him to see his face, but he does not look at her. Not yet. Slowly, shakily, he holds out his hand and uncurls his fingers enough to let her glimpse the treasure resting in his palm. 

The crystal is colorless. She can see the skin of his hand through it, except where a flaw like a white scar zigzags up its length. That is the only sign left of the crack. The stone, once bled and broken, is healed.

"You did it." It’s not her victory, but it feels like it. "Are you alright?"

But he gives no answer. Not with words. Outside of words, the answer is negative. He is not alright. She reads this in the way he moves, in the way he breathes, in the way he still does not look at her, and in the pressure of the Force around him. Rey resists the urge to press him for conversation only because the wall he has built around himself feels almost physical. It hurts to keep her distance when all she wants to do is hold him, but this is not about her.

"I'll have to build a new lightsaber." He says it so softly, so distantly, that he could have been talking to himself.

Rey answers anyway. "I have your old one, still. I'll go get it!" She is scrambling to her feet and retreating in a hurry, for if she cannot be as close to him as possible, then she must get farther away. 

Out in the corridor, she stops to lean on the hull and catch her breath, trying not to cry. It's her own fault. She's sure of that. He is not angry at her, perhaps, but he is hurting, he is frightened, and it is her fault. It is she who drags him into danger and conflict, who makes him risk his life when he has only just gotten it back.

But even so, she can't abandon her friends. 

_It is for the best,_ says a voice in her head. _He must stand on his own two feet and face his past. He will be stronger for this, and so will you._

She cannot recall the sound of the voice as soon as it has passed. In memory, it becomes her own voice, and so she thinks nothing of it.

The disassembled casing of the cross-guarded saber is right where she left it, bundled up and tucked away in a drawer in the main hold. She no longer feels reverence for the thing when she holds it in her hands. Without the crystal—without its soul—and with Ben alive in the next room, it is only a tool. She wraps it back in its cloth and makes her way back to him. She does not hurry.

Ben, like the saber, is right where she left him, still communing with the crystal, or perhaps just taking a breather. He does not glance up when she sets the casing on the floor in front of him, and his muttered "thank you" is all but inaudible. 

"I can.... I, um..." She means to offer to help, or at least to keep him company, but something inside her twists and tightens and aches, and instead she says, "I'm going to keep on eye on the cockpit," even though BB-8 is already doing just that.

Now Ben does look at her, but she cannot read him. His eyes are as dark and deep and full of pain as ever and the bond is once again pinched shut. She understands, or she tells herself she does. Not even she can fight all of his demons for him.

He stares at her, but he says nothing. At last, he nods once, no more than a downward twitch of his chin, and then returns his gaze to the crystal.

Rey... Rey feels lost. She tells herself it is the strain of the journey and the destination. It will all go back to normal once Ben and the Resistance have made some sort of peace.

Her unease does not leave her when she sinks into pilot's chair, but it becomes more bearable, somehow. There is little if anything for her to do here, deep in hyperspace as they are, but she checks the read-outs and stares at hyperlane maps while she waits for something to change.

It is Ben who ends the wait. As she is sitting, sulking at the liquid swirl of hyperspace, the bond between them opens like a nightblooming flower and Ben is there, the shape of him like a beacon in her mind.

_I'm sorry._

It is almost laughable that he should apologize to her now. _No,_ she thinks back at him. _No, I am. Are you okay?_

 _I will be._ There is a pause. She thinks the conversation is over until he says, _Come back to me?_

So, of course, she does.

-

There is time to eat and a few hours to sleep before they arrive. It is early to go to bed, based on when they last slept, but they will be landing on Ajan Kloss's morning side and expect to have a long day ahead before they can rest again. Rey has an inclination to spend some of their time on more vigorous activities, pointing out that it will help them both sleep, but Ben ever so gently turns her down. He is still too uncomfortable on his father's ship and anxious about their destination. He is willing, at least, to hold her while they squeeze together onto the largest of the three beds and try to rest.

Rey sleeps too lightly to dream, dozing in and out of consciousness and aware as much in sleep as she is in waking of the warm, strong arms around her and the steady beat of her lover's heart.

Dragging themselves back out of bed after a scant four hours is less pleasant, but she knows they will feel better for it in the long run. Ben is stoic about it, which she has learned to expect. She hopes his sense of discipline was something he strove for of his own accord and not a habit learned at pain of punishment by Snoke. She does not let herself spend too much time on that line of thought, however, for he would surely pick up on her distress.

"Hungry?" She asks it with a smile that will not quite reach her eyes.

"No."

"Yeah, me neither, but we're almost there."

"I'll be fine." He has been saying that a lot. She believes it less and less.

-

Rey half-expects to have to run a blockade upon arrival, but they are not so unlucky. There are Star Destroyers—two of them—just barely visible over the curve of the moon, but according to scans, the main force is on the ground. The Resistance has shored itself up inside a box canyon not far from their original base site. The terrain is a natural a maze when traversed on foot or speeder, and guarded from overhead bombardment by shield generators.

The enemy is... harder to find. She can see their transports—heavily armored shuttles arranged to form a line of cover. Scanners have picked up the thick cluster of lifesigns that is the Resistance army, but as for the First Order...

"This doesn't make sense." She is turning dials and flicking switches even as she speaks, recalibrating the scanners in every way she knows how. "The First Order's down there, but they're not."

Before they exited hyperspace, Ben had taken the copilot's seat without a word, his emotions locked down too tight to read. Now he leans over to see what Rey sees. She watches his brow furrow as he spots the contradiction. "Is that an echo?"

"I compensated for that. Nothing I do changes it, so it..."

"So it can't be a flaw in our system," he finishes. "Something else is throwing off the scanners."

"Yeah, but there's no signal. If somebody were scrambling us or projecting false readings, I'd be able to trace the signal. This is either new technology, or... I don't know."

"I might know," Ben says, and he looks anything but happy about it. "We need to get down there."


	10. I Used To Rule The World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, what? An update? On Wednesday, even?  
> I've got a decent chunk of the next chapter drafted too, so I might be back on the two-week schedule, at least for now. Wish me luck.
> 
> Chapter title from “Viva la Vida” by Coldplay (one of my all-time favorite songs for ex-villains)
> 
> -

It is tempting to sweep close over the First Order forces, to find out if line-of-sight recon can out-do whatever trick has their scans confused, and to trust the Falcon's speed to keep them from being shot down. It is tempting, but foolish. For all Rey knows, there is nothing there at all and the signal will lead them into a trap.

Instead, she takes them down at a steep angle straight into the canyon itself. The shields open an instant after she sends the coded request. Someone is waiting for them.

Rey had been present when the canyon was mapped out, and sure enough, the best spot for landing the Falcon is clear and ready for her. She powers everything down quickly, Ben working alongside her without comment, but then, when there is nothing left to do except disembark, she hesitates. "You'll be okay?"

The look Ben gives her is another one he learned from his mother. "If your friends don't shoot me on sight."

"They won't." And if they try, she will be there to stop them.

He does not quite believe her, she suspects, but he follows her nonetheless, through the familiar curve of the corridors and out and down, to emerge blinking under the yellow sunlight and the worried faces of her friends.

Poe is at the front, as usual. Rey watches the movement of his eyes as he checks her up and down and then locks a grim stare onto Ben. It seems to take him a moment to muster himself to speak, but when he does, his voice matches his face. "Why don't you stop hiding behind her, Kylo Ren?"

Rey tenses and opens her mouth to correct him, but Ben's hand on her shoulder silences her. He is a picture of stoic resignation as he steps around her. She has to bite her lip to keep from trying to stop him.

The seconds seem long as they stare each other down, Ben's height advantage over Poe making the picture almost comedic. Then, without so much as a blink, the Resistance general hauls back a fist and slams it into Ben's jaw.

It is when he pulls back and aims a second punch that Rey's shock gives way to outrage and she freezes him in place with a gesture and a thought. She can see the horror as it dawns in his eyes and she does not care. She holds him there, statuesque, until she has stepped between him and Ben and he must stagger and catch himself to avoid hitting her instead when she releases him.

"You..." Poe is pointing at Rey as he steps back, visibly trying to compose himself. "You come with me. _You,_ " and now he swings his arm to point at Ben. "Don't leave my sight."

There is a moment more when no one moves. It is Poe, then, who turns his back on them and walks across the canyon to a wide entrance built into the stone wall. A few of the Resistance fighters follow him. Most do not. Rey cranes her neck in search of Finn, but can't find him in the crowd.

She has been here before, back when the Resistance was first fortifying the place as an emergency shelter, but it has changed in the short time since. Their bases are always changing.

The chamber they enter is wider than can be measured at a glance, broken into sections by thick pillars and partitions. The ceiling is higher than one would expect - high enough to shelter small ships, if necessary. The basic underground structure, as Rey understands it, was there before the Resistance came. It was the den of pirates or smugglers abandoned at some point during the previous war, and perhaps it was something else before that. It had needed a little shoring up, but the additions are hardly noticeable now, as the whole thing was built of rough-hewn rock and mismatched scrap metal to begin with.

Poe leads them into a three-sides space between the back wall and two bolted-down metal dividers. It seems to serve the role of an office, though the privacy is minimal. This fact does not deter Poe, however, as he circles a cluttered, rusted table to take a seat on the far side of it, staring coldly at Rey until she scoots into the only other chair. Ben is left standing.

"Here's what we're looking at," Poe begins, and then he dives into such a rapidfire report that Rey can barely keep up. "It started with the Destroyers firing on us. We retreated down here and got the shields up. Then they dropped troops and took the base. We thought we could take it back once the Destroyers moved off, but when we got out there, nothing we saw matched our readings. What we thought was the main body of troops was only one squad. As soon as we engaged, we got reports of soldiers rushing the canyon, but they were invisible on our scans. We made it back in time, barely, and we haven't sent anything bout scouting parties out since. Whatever they're doing, none of our tech can counter it. We have no idea where they really are or how many there are, let alone how they're hiding from us."

"It's a Navigator." Although she can feel his keen interest in Poe's story, Ben's voice surprises Rey. It is cool and collected, almost matter-of-fact. It is a thin facade, however. Even with him squeezing the bond half-shut, she can tell that much. 

"A what?" Poe is still plainly offended by Ben's presence, but as long as he keeps his anger to dirty looks and cold tones of voice, Rey can let it slide.

"A Navigator. One of Snoke's." Rey presses at Ben's mind while he talks, worried about what memories this might dredge up, but he keeps her locked out. "They have abilities like what you describe. Cloaking armies, scrambling trackers... They can throw ships into hyperspace too, so watch out for that."

Poe is leaning forward over his desk now, a picture of intensity. "How do we stop it?"

"You'll never find her unless she wants you to," Ben says. "I'll have to do it."

"No.” The word is pitched like a command. "Rey can do it."

"Rey doesn't know what to look for."

"Then show her." Poe doesn't sound like he means to relent, and Rey can sense the fractures forming in Ben’s control.

"This would be easier if—" but he falls silent when she puts a hand on his arm.

"It's fine." She says it in the same gentle, soothing almost-whisper she had found herself using with him on Ahch-To. She had not planned to speak that way, especially not in front of Poe. She thinks perhaps it is the bond again, letting her know what the other half of her soul needs to hear. "Show me how."

There is a moment when the two men keep glowering at each other and Rey wonders if even she cannot prevent further violence, but then Poe wrinkles his nose as if at a bad smell and drops his gaze to one of the datapads on his desk, making a show of having better things to do. "Fine. Get it done fast."

Rey almost snaps something back at him, but this time it is Ben's turn to intercede, whether he realizes what she was about to do or not. He has taken her hand, his long fingers cool and soothing around hers. When she looks up to meet his eyes, he gestures with a small turn of his chin and leads her away. They mind Poe’s order to stay in sight, going only as far as the nearest out-of-the-way spot free of the storage containers, computers, and scrap material that clutter much of the floor. A few of the people scattered around the wide space look their way, but Rey ignores them. She is centered on Ben as he is centered on her, and yet even now, to her frustration, he keeps things to himself. She senses his shame and his fear, and perhaps something else, but he won't let her in to parse out the details. 

She can't coax her way past his defenses and she can't quell his fear with meager reassurances. The best she can do for now is to try to keep him grounded in the present. "Teach me," she reminds him, and he does. They sit facing each other, hands clasped, and he teaches her without a word, catching her in an embrace of Force energy and flinging the both of them out of their bodies, out and up and into the high atmosphere, into the blazing sun that Rey can feel even without her skin.

He holds her there among the clouds and, acting as two parts of a single entity, their conjoined souls expand, reaching out over the humid jungle, into the depths of the winding rivers and up to the lightless void beyond the last sparse molecules of atmosphere. It is fast, too much data for Rey to process all at once. Instead she is aware of one thing after another—of the burst of life in a sprouting seed and of its sudden absence as a bird eats a fish—of the brief spark of life in an insect and the slow, patient energy coursing through the tallest of trees. Then she is aware of something that is unlike any other living thing on the jungle moon.

In her experiences over the year since her power first awakened in her, Rey has observed that the Force signatures of all beings who travels through hyperspace share a certain feel, almost a taste or an aura of indescribable color. Something to do with touching so much of the galaxy changes a person, as far as she can guess. She has, however, only once before sensed someone who appeared to be made entirely of the stuff.

"You feel it," Ben says aloud, and she is startled a little by the reminder that she is still a creature of flesh and blood.

 _Is that the Navigator?_ She asks it with her mind rather than her voice for fear of breaking herself out of the trance.

 _That's her._ He is quick to adjust his own mode of communication to match hers. _Can you sense where she is?_

Rey concentrates, mapping the Force by its brightest points, trying to correlate them with the landmarks and lifeforms in the jungle. Then, all at once, she has it. It's obvious. The Navigator's signature is not _on_ the moon’s. It's above. Now Rey ends the trance intentionally, coming back to herself in a rush. Despite her physical body having sat still throughout the process, she feels out of breath when she announces, "the Navigator’s on one of the Destroyers."

"The smaller one," Ben confirms. His hands are warm in hers and for a moment, even as pressing as the situation is, she is content simply to sit and hold them. She wishes they were back on Ahch-To. She wishes she could take him and fly back right that instant without feeling guilty about leaving her friends to solve their own problems. She can’t, of course, and they have been victorious in their first two steps, she reminds herself. They know what the enemy is and they know where. Furthermore, no one has tried to lock up or kill Ben yet, so really, they've managed the first _three_ steps.

The hard part is still yet to come. "How are we going to reach her?"

Ben's smile is beautiful but fleeting as he contradicts her thoughts as if he heard them. "That's the easy part. I'll ask."

She knows what he is suggesting, or she has a pretty good guess, but she prods anyway, hoping to be proven wrong. "Ask who?"

When he meets her eyes, there is a wolfish cunning there. "Does the First Order know what happened on Exegol?"

"No," Rey answers. "I don't think so. I told Poe and Finn, but... no."

"If they do, we can make them believe it was a lie.” He draws a breath and swallows, visibly steeling himself before he says, "The First Order will welcome the return of their Supreme Leader."

-<>-

He hates the plan before he puts voice to it, but it's the least he can do. What better way to start setting things right than to take advantage of his own past mistakes? He should have done it before his death. He should have done it a year ago. Now he can only hope he will be given another chance. He has been too lucky of late with his second chances. It is his only father's foolish superstition, he knows, but he worries that sooner or later that luck will turn.

"Should I wear something else?" Rey asks, and at first Ben does not understand the question. "I could dress in black like you,” she goes on. “We can say that I'm your apprentice."

"You're not going." The mere thought of it is a stab of terror in his gut.

"Yes I am."

"They'll kill you."

She arches an eyebrow at him and when he does not react to it, she says, "We've had this conversation already, and the Resistance hasn't killed you yet."

"The First Order is not the Resistance."

She does not call him out on this admission, but he sees it in her eyes and it annoys him more than it should. He does not want to be annoyed with her. He is not annoyed with her. He is annoyed at her beloved Resistance and their heroic terrorism. He may have been wrong about them to some degree, but he does not have to like the fact, nor does he have to agree now with all of their foolhardy ideals. He is not here for them.

If the conversation—argument?—was going to continue, it doesn't get the chance. They are interrupted by none other than Rey’s precious traitor, the man formerly known as FN-2187. He is a far cry from the unsure deserter Kylo Ren had dueled on Starkiller Base, let alone the Stormtrooper who had never shot anyone. He is confident now, at ease in his own skin. He even managed to look only a little nervous over the act of putting himself within such close proximity to Ben. He is carrying a metal tray ladened with two plates of food and two tall drinking cups, but this obstacle does nothing to discourage Rey from leaping up with a gleeful shout of "Finn!" and hugging him, earning herself a one-armed reciprocation as he struggles not to drop his burden. 

He is loud and brisk when he speaks. "I thought you might be hungry."

Rey takes the proffered tray and plops back down onto the floor, aiming a grateful smile up at Finn. "Have you already eaten? Do you want to sit with us?"

"I, uh..." The ex-Trooper plainly does not want to sit with Ben, but is torn between that and his desire to humor Rey. Ben finds it amusingly relatable. "Yeah, I did eat, but... Sure. Okay." And, cautious as if he expects an attack, this man who is Rey's dearest friend and Ben's once-hated enemy sits down on the cold stone floor to keep them company.

Rey had kept a professional distance from Ben ever since their arrival, but now she sits so close that her thigh presses against his, and as she lifts a first bite of food to her mouth, she shoots him a little smile. There is no surer way to lift Rey's mood than with an offering of food. Clearly, her friend—Finn is his new name, Ben reminds himself—knows this just as well.

Ben eats the way he always does—methodically, efficiently, but not so fast as to make a fool of himself. Rey is finished before him and proceeds to lick every crumb from her plate while she waits. Not for the first time, he aches for the hardships he could not save her from. It is a feeling he keeps locked well away from her, though, for fear that she too would dwell on it. Her focus must be on the present if she is to survive.

He knows he hasn’t let anything slip through, but Rey is eyeing him as he finishes the last bite of his food—rehydrated grain and vegetables, bland but not terrible—and as soon as he sets the empty plate and cup aside, she scoots herself around to face him fully and lifts both hands toward his face. "That bruise is looking worse. Let me see."

For a moment, he isn't even sure what she is talking about. Then her fingers touch his jaw and a dull, tender pain blossoms beneath them and he remembers the incident with Poe. "It's nothing."

"It must hurt," she insists.

Smiling is never an easy task, but Ben does it for her, trying his best to take the sting out of his next words. "I've had worse, remember?"

He meant it to be funny. She doesn't look amused. "I'm sorry."

He takes her hand from his face then, not because it hurts him, but because it clearly hurts her too. "Don't ever be sorry."

Her eyes are huge and deep as she gazes up at him. He thinks he could drown in them if he leaned just a little farther forward. Of course, if he did that, it is her lips that would catch him and rescue him from the endless depths.

Finn lets them get lost in each other's eyes for perhaps twenty seconds before loudly clearing his throat. Ben should probably be annoyed by the interruption, but finds himself enjoying the flush that comes over Rey's cheeks as she turns her head away.

"So, uh..." Finn looks like he regrets the choice as soon as he begins to speak, but he doesn’t stop. "Are we gonna talk about... this?" The word is illustrated by a broad gesture of his hand in Rey and Ben's direction.

Rey's eyebrows climb upward. "Here?"

"Well," Finn says, "if we go somewhere private and leave _him_ here, I'm worried somebody will get killed before we're back."

Of course. Ben shouldn’t feel disappointed, but he does. Of course the traitor would think so. Why wouldn't he? Even the word of his best friend isn't enough to trust, apparently. Ben speaks up for himself before Rey can. "I'm not here for that."

Finn looks him square in the eye. "I meant somebody will try to kill _you._ "

Oh. "I didn't know you cared." Sassing him is probably not the best way to keep Finn on his side, but it's out before Ben can help himself. 

"I don't care about you," Finn clarifies, short and dismissive. "I just don't want Rey to get her heart broken again. You didn't see her when she came back from Exegol. I did."

Rey is fighting off a grimace. "Finn, you don't have to..."

But Finn is right. Ben has been well aware of the fact since he came back and he is not about to start denying it now. "It's one of the many things I'm trying to atone for." When Rey’s hand finds its way into his, he gives it a squeeze. 

Finn is trying visibly not to look uncomfortable. "Well... good." Then, as if the thought has leapt to his tongue abruptly, he furrows his brows, shakes his head, and says, "How did you come back, anyway? Rey didn't explain that."

Unsure how to answer, Ben glances at Rey. Rey bites her lip. "We're a... a dyad. In the Force. We're connected. I don't think either of us can really die or... or at least become one with the Force without the other." They have not discussed it in that much detail, as far as Ben recalls. He can't tell if Rey knows more about it than he does or if she is only guessing.

"Well, that's a neat trick," says Finn, only a little sardonic. "So he wasn't really dead?"

Rey shakes her head. "I don't know. I... felt him. I was able to bring him back." She looks again at Ben, perhaps expecting him to contribute to the story, but he has no desire to talk about that dark, lonely void within which he had waited for her. It is an unpleasant memory and he doesn't see how it will help.

"Look, don't get me wrong," says Finn, "I'm glad you're happy, Rey, and I'm glad you're not murdering people yet," this, of course, is directed at Ben, "but you sure know how to make things complicated."

"Finn..." 

He holds up a hand, stalling whatever apology or argument she intended to voice. "It's fine, Rey. I can't even hate him, can I? We're both traitors now. So," Finn doesn't give Ben a chance to respond to the remark, which is probably for the best. "What can I do to help?"

If Rey is surprised by the offer, she doesn’t show it. She is bright-eyed and eager as she summarizes the plan. "We're going to infiltrate the First Order and find the Navigator. We need disguises."

"We have a few uniforms we've used before, but..."

"Not uniforms," Ben corrects. "Something that the Supreme Leader would wear."

"Okay. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll look. What about Rey? They probably know her face as well as yours."

"The same." He feels Rey looking at him, but he keeps his eyes on Finn, keeps speaking through the tension that wants to lock his jaw shut. "She will be my apprentice."

He can see the doubt as it washes over the ex-Stormtrooper's face. "When you say it like that, I'm not so sure I should trust you after all."

But Ben cannot let himself take offense. He has no right. "If you can convince her to stay, be my guest."

"I won't," says Rey. "I've infiltrated First Order ships before." Technically, she had been sneaking out rather than in the first time and had not been sneaking at all the second time, but the third time could certainly have been called an infiltration.

"Which means you're more likely to get caught!" Finn argues, and though Ben knows, with her skills, that the opposite is more likely true, he is inclined to let Finn keep trying to talk her out of it.

Naturally, Rey manages just fine without his support. "I have the Force, remember? I'll be fine."

"So does that thing you're hunting. That Navigator." Finn is beginning to sound desperate, like he knows what Ben knows—that neither of them has a chance at changing her mind.

"Then it will be two against one." If anything, Rey is more resolute with every word. "Finn, you asked for my help, so let me help you. I can do this. _We_ can do this." And here she locks her slim fingers around Ben's hand and holds it up for Finn to see.

Finn's dark eyes land on hers, then on their joined hands, and then drop away in surrender. "I'll go see what we've got in the costume department."


	11. The War Outside Our Door Keeps Raging On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if ao3 alerted everyone (all four of you) to the previous update since I'd posted that author's note as its own chapter first, so just in case, this is chapter 11 and be sure you've read chapter 10.
> 
> This chapter's title is from "Safe and Sound" by Taylor Swift
> 
> -

Finn returns with his arms full of black clothes. Ben sorts through it, separates it into two stacks, and sends Finn back with the rejects and a request to bring anything gray or red. It takes less time than he expects for the three of them to sort out two ensembles that should pass, provided no one notices that Rey's red outer robe is a cleverly wrapped bedsheet.

"Won't this stand out too much?" She is fretting with the silky layers and Ben must resist the urge to catch her hands and hold them still.

"You want to stand out," he assures her instead. "Be intimidating. Make such an impression that no one will think to question you."

She seems to wilt, her gaze cutting away from him. "I'm not exactly intimidating."

Ben feels himself smile, if a bit darkly. "My love, you are terrifying." While she is blushing nearly bright enough to match her robes, Ben turns to Finn. "We need transport. A small ship or a couple of speeders. And we need to make it look like we're escaping."

It is difficult to read Finn. Part of it is that his emotions are mixed. The other part is that he has clearly been improving his once-latent ability to use the Force. Ben had sensed it in him long ago, of course, but had not expected him to get anywhere without a teacher—and who would teach a Stormtrooper that? "Poe's not gonna like you messing with any of his ships," Finn says, and his tone is discouraging but his face looks like he might be trying to stifle amusement. 

"Then Poe can handle the Navigator himself."

Poe, of course, is still in plain view and probably within earshot, but so far he has done nothing more than glance up from his datapad at regular intervals and keep staring until one of them looks his way, as if his sole purpose in the act is to let them know that he’s watching them.

"Yeah," says Finn. "I hear you. I'll go talk to him." And he goes, leaving the two of them with nothing to do but watch and wait. Rey sidesteps closer to Ben while keeping her eyes on her best friend's back. She is beautiful in her disguise if he does not think too hard about what it represents. It is heavier than her usual attire, accenting her figure in different ways. She reminds him of some sort of sultry flower, or a bright-colored bird with long tail feathers. He would very much like to have her alone, to slide his hands under the fabric, to take off the costume one piece at a time even though she has only just gotten it on… but he tries not to think too hard about that either.

The conversation between co-generals is, for the most part, held too low to hear. The exception is when Poe, sounding no less angry than he did when they arrived, asks loudly, "Why don't they just take the Falcon?"

Finn's response is inaudible, but Poe looks begrudgingly resigned, so it was probably a good one. Finn returns shortly after.

"Well?" Rey has been restless on her feet during the wait, all but bouncing in place. She will need to work on that if she is to pass as a dark and brooding Sith.

"He thinks your boyfriend is planning to turn you to the Dark side for real," Finn says, "but he has a speeder you can use. Should carry both of you."

"It would be best if someone chases us part of the way," Ben says, "to make it look real. The First Order will be watching."

"I think I can arrange that." Finn looks uncertain, but Ben thinks it is worry for their safety more than for the mission itself. "So when do we want to do this?"

Ben looks at Rey as she stands steadily by his side. She is tense still, but not so jittery anymore. "The sooner the better."

"Alright, I guess..." Finn shrugs as if he doesn't know what else to say. "Take a 'fresher break and I'll get your ride ready."

-

The plan goes off without a hitch, although the race through the jungle on a landspeeder is one of the most terrifying events of Ben's adult life. He fears that at any moment they might be shot down— _Rey_ might be shot down—and it would all happen too quickly for him to do a thing about it. He should have let Rey drive and left himself free to concentrate on their defense, but it is too late to stop now. He has only his skill and the Force to rely on… and one other trick up his sleeve.

The speeder has a short-range comm. As they put more distance between themselves and the canyon, he keys in and broadcasts a code. It will tell the First Order they are friendly. Whether or not they choose to listen, he doesn’t know, but at least he’ll have tried.

Their pursuers break off just before they reach the clearing which had housed the Resistance base before the invasion. It is a bold move and earns them a small amount of respect from Ben. They risk their lives to put on the show he asked for.

As Poe had warned them, the old base is nearly empty, but not abandoned. A reserve guard of Stormtroopers is waiting on alert for them, blasters in hand but pointed at the ground. His signal must have been received. As Ben swings the speeder sideways into a rapid stop, a trooper with a black epaulette steps forward. "Name and rank," snaps a feminine voice, all business.

Ben keeps his head high and his every motion grand as he sweeps off the speeder to loom over the sergeant. Now is the moment. "Kylo Ren,” he tells her, and it does not feel like only a couple weeks since he played this role. It feels like a lifetime ago. “Supreme Leader."

  
-< >-

  
Even though she is ready for it—or at least she has told herself so—Rey is nearly jolted out of her own act by the sound of those words spoken in _that_ voice. Ben must sense the way she falters, for a whisper caresses her mind, _Let me do the talking_ , and she takes what relief she can from that. She is trying, but she still can't imagine how she would convince anyone of her role if she were engaged in conversation.

While Rey frets, the trooper has recovered enough from her own shock to respond to Ben. "I... I'm sorry, Supreme Leader. I almost didn't recognize you. What are your orders?" If she has any doubts about his identity or purpose, she is wise enough to let it be someone else's problem.

"I need transport for myself and my apprentice." Ben's words are too fast, but the harshness of them makes it sound not like the fear Rey knows it is, but like the barely contained anger he was reputed for. “There are two Star Destroyers in orbit. I must speak to their commander."

"Yes, Sir." There is something lighter about the way the trooper stands and speaks. She is relieved to soon be rid of them. Rey can't blame her. "Right this way."

It is one of the newer models of a lambda type shuttle which they are taken to. The make has changed only a little since the days of the Empire, when even Rey knows that it was a staple. She had learned to fly one in the simulators she’d salvaged on Jakku. This one, however, comes with its own pilot and Rey is left idle and trying not to fidget. She follows Ben's example and sits in one of the passenger seats near the front, putting her hands in her lap and gripping her robes until her knuckles go white. _You didn't say anything about escaping the Resistance,_ she thinks at Ben, for she cannot keep herself completely silent.

_It was not her business. he answers. It would have been more suspicious if I did._

That makes sense, she supposes. The First Order, as far as she can tell, is far more strict and specific when it comes to rank. By comparison, the Resistance is downright casual. It makes her glad she is not wearing one of those uniforms Finn offered. She would have slipped up sooner rather than later if she’d had to impersonate an officer.

The ride to the Star Destroyer is quick. Rey doesn't feel remotely ready as they slow and turn into the docking bay. She doubts, though, that any more time would have made a difference. There is nothing for it but to dive in and do the best she can. Ben's presence is soothing, but he can spare her little more than that. He battles his own demons, spending all of his willpower on keeping them from showing on his face.

The pilot says nothing as they land. The ramp lowers and they are left to disembark at their own pace. Ben sets one that is swift and imposing, for out in the docking bay, well away from the shuttle but impossible to miss, stands a row of officers with Stormtroopers behind them and a lone woman in front. Her posture is flawless, her hair pulled back tight over her scalp only to pop into a lively bun above the stiff back of her collar. Her skin is almost dark enough to match the night-black uniform she wears, and in spite of everything, her face is calm.

"Commander Niah Sloane," Ben intones, and he almost sounds like Kylo Ren again. Almost, but not quite. "Or have you given yourself a promotion?"

The woman's voice is as steady as her appearance. If her Supreme Leader's return has unsettled her, she is above showing it. "Few of our leadership survived Exegol. You were presumed dead. If you would like to demote me and appoint someone else, it is your right." Her tone is perfectly neutral, and yet Rey gets the impression that this is a challenge.

"Yes it is," Ben says, and when the woman called Sloane only waits for his verdict in silence, he asks, "General?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good." The word is almost a growl, as if he must remind her that he is a monster even as he is being generous. "It suits you. Your aunt must be proud."

She had shown no emotion at his return, but the reference to family leaves her blinking and visibly trying to maintain her composure. The Kylo Ren she imagined, perhaps, was too inhuman to speak of so domestic a thing. "She is, Sir."

Here, as she is reeling, Ben pushes the plan forward. "I was captured on Exegol, not killed. I escaped with the help of my apprentice." He does not gesture or look at Rey, but the General's eyes flick in her direction anyway. "I need somewhere quiet and secure to recuperate, I need a report of out progress since Exegol, and I need to speak with the Navigator you have on board—in that order."

By the time he is finished delivering his commands, Sloane is once again the picture of stoic readiness. "Yes, Sir." Then, without looking at the officers behind her, she says, "Major Hallock, show the Supreme Leader to the guest suite across from my quarters. Lieutenant Mitaka, compile that report and have it sent to the guest suite's console. Will you be needing the access code, Sir?"

"Not unless my override has been deactivated," Ben answers.

"It hasn't."

"Then that will be all. Thank you for your hospitality, General."

"My pleasure, Supreme Leader, and welcome back." She sounds like she actually means it, but it might just as well be an act. Either way, Ben does not respond to her, but breezes past and makes the man called Hallock hustle to take the lead. Rey follows close behind, chin up and eyes forward, feeling very glad that no one has yet questioned her or spoken to her at all.

It is a long walk down empty, spotless hallways, a tense ride in an elevator, and another stretch of sterile corridor before they reach their destination. Ben moves stiffly, which, in Rey's opinion, helps his act rather than hinders it, but as soon as their guide has been dismissed and the door of the guest suite snaps shut behind them, he is swinging an arm up and closing his fist, and Rey spins at the sound of something metallic breaking. A tiny black object falls from somewhere near the ceiling and clatters on the floor. He moves his hand again and she follows it in time to spot a second security camera before it is crushed beyond recognition. Then, shaking all over, Ben sinks to his knees.

Even as Rey drops with him and reaches out, the bond which has been held shut for too long bursts open at the seams. Dread crashes over her like a tidal wave, like one of Jakku sandstorms, fierce enough to rip flesh from bone. He can't do it. He can't face the First Order, let alone command them. Not when every crisp uniform, every echoing step on the floors of those shining silver corridors takes him back—when at every moment he expects to feel a spike of pain or a squeeze of pressure in his head and to hear the voice of his master—to be told once again that he is not good enough—that he is one mistake away from being discarded.

It takes an effort not to fall with him into breathless panic, but Rey holds on, keeps her head above the surface and struggles to pull him back up from the depths. He is gasping like he cannot breathe, so she shows him how, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her chest to his back. His mind is spinning like a storm, so she makes herself a wall, lets him beat against the stillness of her mind until he has blown himself out. 

When at last he turns to see her, pulls shakily free of her grasp, his face is pale and ravaged by memory but his eyes are dry.

"You _can_ do it," she tells him, soft as a breath. "You've already done it. There's just a little more left."

"It's not as easy as it looks." He is still breathing heavily, still looking like a haunted man, but it is a profound relief to hear him speak. "They played along because they know I can kill them with a thought. They will betray us. I just don't know when."

"So," says Rey, and she cups his bruised cheek in her hand to steady him. “We get what we need and we betray them first."

He says nothing right away. He only leans into her touch and focuses on breathing. When he has regained himself enough, he stands, unfolding until he looms ridiculously tall above her, reaching down to help her up. He lets go of her as soon as she is on her feet, though, and moves off to stalk about the suite, checking the adjacent rooms, poking his head into the closet, and finally coming to bend over the console where he punches in a code that lights the screen with data. A search through the drawers underneath puts a datapad in his hands and he falls into a flurry of selecting and copying information. "Keep an ear out for the Navigator," he says while he works. "She may try to catch us off guard."

But rather than arrive before they are ready, the Navigator keeps them waiting. Ben finishes the data transfer and she isn’t there. Rey does her own scouting around the suite, marking every possible exit—there is only the one door, but there are two vents large enough for her to crawl through, though probably too narrow for Ben—and still the Navigator has not come. Rey feels herself growing antsier while Ben goes strangely calm. She is just about to speak for the sole sake of breaking the silence when she senses abruptly that hyperspace-touched presence nearby. Ben goes to open the door.

Rey had almost forgotten what these particular minions of Snoke looked like. Seeing one now brings back the red throne room and the torturous interrogation more clearly than she likes, but she pushes that uneasiness down and imagines herself as hard and cold as ice.

It’s over quickly.

The door hisses open. The Navigator stands, masked and clad in twilight purple. Ben's hand comes up, freezing the figure before she can utter a sound. He jerks his arm back, yanking her inside. He shuts the door.

His remade lightsaber claims its first life. The blade shines as white as a star.

With that over, they are left with a decision—do they retreat immediately as they had planned to, outrunning whatever trouble the First Order might concoct for them, or do they stay and see how much damage they can do?

Now that Ben has overcome his paralyzing terror, Rey wants to stay. The Navigator was easy enough. If they are strategic, they can surely take out more of the authority on board. Perhaps they can disable the ship, or even destroy it. She is already dredging up memories of taking apart similar models, calculating how best to get it done.

Ben still wants to leave. "I’ll tell them the Navigator has revealed something to me and I must act upon it immediately."

"We can tell them that when we're ready. I think I can trigger a cascading power failure if you get me to the right breaker."

"That isn't the mission," he argues, low.

Rey lets her brow furrow in consternation. "But shouldn't we act on the opportunity while we have it?" A few moments ago, when Ben was on the floor and in distress, she was prepared to get him out of there whether or not they completed the mission, but he's better now and it pains her to think of leaving without doing everything in her power to help the Resistance… To guard the lives of her friends.

"Rey." Ben catches and holds her gaze. "If we attack the ship, they won't let us walk onto any others so easily."

The implication has her tripping over her words. "You mean you... You want to keep doing this?" She waves a hand at his black outfit. "Keep pretending to be Kylo?"

The twist at the corner of his mouth is not a smile. "I don't want to, but if we're going to dismantle the First Order, then this is the best way I know to do it."

She shakes her head, not to negate him but to express her consternation. "You said they wouldn't trust us."

"They won't, but with any luck, we can keep them too scared to argue."

She can picture it in her mind, the two of them striding through those endless gray corridors like they own the place, issuing commands and gathering information to bring back to the Resistance. Will Ben use the Force to keep the First Order officers in line? Will he hurt anyone to do it, or kill them in cold blood?

Will she?

How long will they have to keep the act up?

And why can't she quite convince herself that she hates the idea?

"Okay." She draws herself up, hardens her features. Makes herself like ice again. "Let's go."

But Ben is looking down at the saber-scorched body, frowning in thought. “There is one thing,” he says, slow and hesitant. When he lifts his eyes to her, his stare is piercing. “If I help you, do you think you can manipulate a small mechanical part on this ship and the other from here, using the Force?”

“I… I don’t know. I can try.”

“Then here’s what we’ll do…”

-

It takes much less time than their previous meditation session. Rey is not surprised to learn that she is better at finding her way around mechanics while in a Force trance than she is at finding people. The only surprise is that it works at all. The ships themselves don’t have the same Force signatures as living things, but if she follows the light of the crew’s life and then _looks_ , she can make out the shape of things by the way life flows around them and the imprints it leaves behind.

When the job is done, Ben stands and moves to the intercom. "This is your Supreme Leader. General Sloane, report to my quarters."

Unlike the now-deceased Navigator, Niah Sloane does not keep them waiting, and just as he did with the Navigator, Ben opens the door before she can announce her presence. "Come in." He does not, this time, close the door behind her.

Rey is watching the new First Order leader's every move, but only barely catches the alarm that flashes through her at the sight and smell of the purple-robed corpse on the floor. In an instant, she has brushed it off and composed herself again. "Did your meeting not go as planned?"

"On the contrary," Ben says, "your Navigator was a traitor. She was feeding information to the Resistance even as she put on a show of fooling them. I learned of it while they held me captive."

Whether Sloane believes him or not, Rey can't tell. The General's sabacc face is flawless. "I see. How unfortunate. Thank you for remedying the situation."

"See that you are more careful with your security in the future," he growls.

"Of course, Sir. Is there anything else?"

"I need a ship. Capable of hyperspace travel. Small."

"How small?"

"Room for two. No bigger."

She doesn’t so much as twitch. "We have a few scout ships that might suit your needs.”

"Make one ready." The longer he talks, Rey notes, the more the role he is playing comes naturally back to him. "Then have all troops on the ground regroup and wait for my orders."

"Sir?"

Somehow he makes himself look even bigger than before. "I will take care of the Resistance."

It is subtle, but Rey thinks that Sloane's eyes have gotten wider. If so, it is the only crack in her mask of calm. "I'll show you to your ship," she offers, and Ben follows her. Rey takes up the rear.

It’s too easy, the way they are let go. The entire mission has been too easy.

 _Don't say anything out loud,_ Ben's voice echoes in her mind once they are seated back to back in the cockpit, sliding easily out of the Star Destroyer’s dock and zipping low over the jungle canopy. _The ship is probably bugged._

 _Won't that mean they're tracking us too?_ she thinks back at him.

_Yes, but I told them we were going to the Resistance._

Right. He had. _Isn't it too obvious?_ she wonders, and she gets the feeling he agrees.

All he says, however, is, _We'll just have to keep them guessing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted some reference to Rae Sloane cuz she’s bamf, so I gave her a niece.  
> I feel like I stole the name Hallock from somewhere, also, but I can't figure it out. :p


	12. Getting Good At Starting Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would have been on time, but then I rewatched three seasons of Doctor Who. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> I was also originally going to have this chapter be mostly smut, but aside from that being a little ambitious for a 3000-5000 word chapter, I realized the scene I was writing wouldn't feel right unless the threat was eliminated first, so you get Plot and then Smut.
> 
> Chapter title from "Walk" by Foo Fighters
> 
> -

They land the ship at the canyon entrance, not having announced their return by comm for fear the First Order might overhear. Rey exits alone and shows her face to the rebels on guard duty, but rather than let her in immediately, they call Poe.

And as if that ware not a clear enough message of distrust, he comes to meet them there rather than granting them entrance over the comm. He is carrying a blaster when he arrives. "Where's Ren?"

 _You can come out now,_ she thinks, and Ben steps off the ship.

Poe's blaster comes up. It is not a quick motion, and his finger stays off the trigger, but Rey still moves to stand in the way. "We killed the Navigator," she tells him, keeping her voice level. "Ben ordered the troops to withdraw."

"Great," snaps Poe. "What are you still doing here?"

So that's how it's going to be between them, then. Rey huffs. "The Falcon is still in your base." She suspects he would like it best if she left in her little stolen First Order ship and let him keep the freighter, but she’s not feeling quite that generous. "And I want to keep helping. I didn't know the First Order was still this much of a threat. I thought they would have fallen apart after Exegol. I don't want to hide away anymore while you fight."

"What about you?" He jerks the blaster to indicate Ben, who has come up slowly to stand behind Rey's right shoulder.

"I don't care what happens to you," Ben says, and Rey has to stop herself from wincing. "But I'll go where Rey goes.” He drops his gaze away from Poe's then and bow his head in contrition. "I owe her everything."

"Damn right you do," Poe agrees darkly, but he lets the muzzle of his blaster fall and he steps aside. "You know the way to my office. Let's have that debriefing."

-

There are more people this time. It emphasizes how small Poe's makeshift office is. With a wordless gesture, Poe has given Finn the single chair, choosing to stand beside it with his arms crossed. Larma D'Acy is there, tight-lipped but otherwise showing very little of the uncertainty Rey can sense within her. Kaydel Ko Connix stands close to D'Acy, having attached herself to the older woman after losing Leia. Beaumont Kin takes up the back corner of the office, keeping a record of the discussion on a datapad.

"With the Navigator gone, Sloane won't attack you head on. She doesn't have the numbers," Ben tells them, looking weary but resigned as he faces the gathering. Rey keeps her chin up and her gaze firm, trying to make herself the pillar of strength he needs.

"There are two Star Destroyers up there." Poe points out, a picture of skepticism.

"For show," Ben says. "They're running on a skeleton crew."

"So how do we make them go away?" asks Finn.

"I have a plan."

-

A dinner is passed out to everyone on base—packaged rations this time, because they want to be quick—and then most of the Resistance hides away in the deepest chambers of the cavern, opening false walls to reveal secret places which Rey would not have been aware of if she hadn't received the grand tour during an earlier visit.

The few remaining rebels allow themselves to be arranged outside in plain view, sitting in two rows with false bindings on their wrists and ankles. Poe is with them, setting an example of how to look angry but helpless. Rey suspects that it is not entirely an act.

Finally, Ben takes his place in front of them, stance wide, and calls the Niah Sloane’s ship on a handheld communicator. "This is Supreme Leader Kylo Ren. I have subdued the Resistance threat. Their shields are down. Send in Troopers to secure the canyon."

When the comm is switched off, Rey moves in close and takes his hand. "Will this work?"

She is relieved when he meets her eyes. She had been worried for a moment that he would not. "We'll find out,” he tells her, gentle. “Go now."

The plan is for her to signal the ambush, as Ben can tell her when to do so without anyone else overhearing. She steals one last moment, however, to reach up and kiss him soundly, Poe and the rest of their audience be damned. That done, she goes inside to wait.

The rumbling vibration of the troop carriers is loud even from inside the cavern. Six paces away from her, Finn audibly gulps. They will lead the charge together. 

Time passes. At first she thinks it is only in her imagination that makes it seem slow, but as it drag on and on, she begins to worry. _Is everything okay?_

 _I'm making a speech,_ Ben answers. Then, only a few moments later, _Give the signal now._

"Now, Finn." She passes the message on and they move in unison, going swiftly to the first two hidden doors and rapping on the metal. As those begin to slide open, hauled by the rebels waiting inside, they move on to the next set. Like angry insects, the Resistance fighters swarm from their hive and out into the fiery sunset.

What follows is a brief and chaotic battle. Even Rey is only able to keep track of her immediate surroundings—and Ben, of course. She carves a path of charred flesh and armor, a puppet to the push and pull of the Force, seeing the blaster bolts before they fly, aiming her blade at the empty place where the enemy will be. Ban has not gone far from where he started. She has no need to look for him. She can feel his exact location in relation to her own as if she were a magnet and he the world's pole. She wants to go to him, but that is not the plan.

The Resistance fighters are outnumbered by the Stormroopers, but only slightly. They are accustomed to fighting against far higher odds. Between that, the element of surprise, and the three Force users—for Finn fights the same way she does, alerted to each attack before it happens—the battle is over in a matter of bright and breathless minutes. As the last of her faceless enemies collapses at her feet, Rey can see the aftermath. The final few skirmishes are being decided. The ground is a mess of blood and bodies, rendered hazy by a low cloud of kicked-up dust. Against one canyon wall kneels a cluster of still-living Stormtroopers in filthy armor, hands on their heads and Resistance blasters keeping them in check. Rey had not known they would be taking prisoners.

"Generals!" It's Connix, jogging across the battlefield to where Poe and Finn are conferring. Rey's feet carry her in the same direction. "We detected multiple explosions on both Star Destroyers," Kaydel reports. ""They've gone to hyperspace."

"So Ren told the truth." Poe does not sound terribly happy about this, despite the win, and Rey feels her ire rising. She finds herself sorely tempted to step in to demand he be more grateful, but then she sees Ben approaching the prisoners and something isn’t right. Something is off with the way he moves. She prods at the bond, but he is blocking her from all but the most basic sense of his presence, and she knows why when she watches him a moment longer. It is not a mental pain that he hides from her this time, but physical.

Rey switches off her lightsaber and runs to him. Whatever he means to do or say to the prisoners can wait. He barely has time to turn towards her before she is catching hold of him and feeling him over for injuries.

_Easy, Love, easy. It's not bad._

"Where is it?" She doesn't spare the concentration to ask him silently.

"My arm," he confesses, and rolls his left shoulder forward. The hole in his sleeve is burnt at the edges, rough and ragged in the manner of a blaster shot. Rey presses her palm to it immediately, feeling Ben flinch before he adjusts his footing and stands still. His head hangs low and his eyes glaze over as she heals him. Only afterward does he say to her, resigned, "You should have saved your energy for others."

"Shut up.” She tugs at the hole in his sleeve, peering into it to make sure the wound is gone. A sly glance upward tells her that she managed to erase the bruise on his face, too, but he doesn’t need to know that yet. "You can help me with the rest."

Just as they begin searching the fallen for signs of life, Poe is upon them, blood in his hair and battle-fire still blazing in his eyes. "The Destroyers tried to fire on us during the fight. They would have sacrificed you and their troops for victory, like you said, but their cannons malfunctioned. They've retreated."

If she had not been surrounded by death, Rey might have worn a grin from ear to ear. As it is, she finds Ben's eyes again and clasps his hand in both of hers. It had been their work of the Destroyer—a particular part in the weapon system which he had helped her reach through the Force and disconnect in both ships. It was the only reason they were able to convince Poe to lower the shields, and lowering the shields had been the surest way to ensure the First Order would follow the plan. "We did it!"

"You are the reason it worked, Rey." Ben says, and he does not stifle his own smile.

"It was your idea, though."

Poe's jaw looks like it may fall off if he scowls any harder. "Alright, _thanks._ Now you can help us with the cleanup."

He is turning his back on them and walking away even as he finishes the sentence, but Rey follows him with a shout of his name. "Poe! What are you doing with the prisoners?"

"Ask Finn!" He doesn’t even look her way.

Rey sighs, but she lets him go. "Come on," she says more softly, sensing Ben close behind her. "Let's get to work."

-

Drawing on the Force together, they are able to heal more than twice what either of them could have done alone, and yet it is still not everyone. They focus on those who are closest to death, unlikely to be saved by any other means. In doing so, they expend even more energy on fewer people, but it makes a difference. It takes the hardest jobs from the Resistance medics, leaving them to tend to the smaller, easier wounds and treat more people more quickly.

Rey works until she is struggling to stand, and Ben the same beside her, until Kaydel Ko Connix appears seemingly out of nowhere and ushers them both to somewhere cool and quiet. Tall cups of water are thrust into their hands, blankets are brought, and Rey does not remember passing out, but she wakes up with her head on Ben's shoulder, her cheek damp with her own drool.

_Hello._

Ben is awake, but his head is tilted back against the wall and his eyes are closed.

"Did you sleep?"

_A little._

Rey loops her arm around his and snuggles in closer. "How long was I out?"

_It's the middle of the night. They moved the wounded and the prisoners inside. That was a while ago._

"How many died?"

_I didn't ask._

Rey takes a moment to concentrate on her own physicality, wondering if she can get back to work at healing. As if in answer, a yawn creeps up her throat.

 _There's no point,_ Ben says, although she doesn’t remember composing the thought into clear words. _They're all either dead or not going to die._

"I could still help."

_So can bacta. Stay here._

She doesn't have the strength to keep arguing, which probably means she would not be of much use if she tried. Besides that, Ben's shoulder is far more comfortable than it has any right to be, and the slow rhythm of his breathing is somehow as sweet as a lullaby.

-

The second time she wakes, it is to Ben's hand on her shoulder and his voice in her ear. "Rey, wake up. There's food."

That word triggers instincts honed over a lifetime of near-starvation and she is sitting up at once, blinking sleep from her eyes and zeroing in on the two servings of breakfast set in front of them.

Ben watches her reaction with a half-smile that makes him look like Han. "There's my scavenger."

"Switch off," she grunts, but she can't bring herself to be truly annoyed.

-

It is Finn who comes to fill them in as they finish their meal, Ben having just handed Rey the empty tray to lick.

"They're transferring the prisoners today," he starts without preamble. "Jannah's got a place for them. I'm going too."

"We'll go with you!" Rey declares without a moment’s thought.

But Finn says, "No. You're needed here." Then, before she can formulate an argument, he looks squarely at Ben, his expression open and honest. "I saw what you did for Poe out there. Thanks."

"I didn't do it for him."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Finn waves a hand to stall the disclaimers. "Just accept the thanks."

When Ben does not respond right away, Rey finds she can't hold back her curiosity any longer. "What are you talking about?"

"That blast he took," Finn explains. "It only hit him because he'd just frozen one aimed at Poe."

Rey whips her head around to stare at Ben. 

"It's just a graze," he says dismissively, sounding embarrassed more than anything. "The other one would have hit Dameron between the eyes."

"You saved my best friend," Finn insists. "Accept the thanks."

A fire sparks in Ben's eyes then, flaring up from embers that have never quite gone out. "I did it because he's Rey's friend. I don't want her to lose any more of those on my account."

Rey's hand seeks out his and holds on tight. It is becoming so familiar a gesture that she can do it without looking. "Thank you, Ben."

The fire still burns, but he surrenders to her. "You're welcome," he says in a murmur, and his gaze drops to the floor.

-

They check on the wounded again, when they feel up to it, but there is little they can do with any efficiency. They heal a few burns that would have been disfiguring and after only that they are drained again, so, with dragging feet, they go looking for somewhere quiet and out of the way.

Returning to the Falcon is the obvious solution, although they first must turn down an awkward offer of sleeping arrangements inside the base. Finn had choked a bit over the question of whether they would prefer two cots or one. Rey tries not to let his discomfort get to her. He has every reason to feel put off by Ben's presence, let alone their relationship. He has been kinder and more forgiving than anyone could ask. She is selfish to wish for more, and yet she does.

She might have lingered, might even have foolishly tried to talk to Finn about it, but Ben is already walking back towards where they left the Falcon and she cannot let him go alone.

He is several paces ahead of her as they trudge up the ramp. He keeps going for a few steps into the dimly lit hold and then he stops, the echo of his footfalls on metal receding, his eyes cast ahead at nothing and his hands fisted at his sides.

Rey doesn't stop. She keeps walking until she has walked right into his back, pressing herself to the broad expanse of it, snaking her arms around his middle, burying her face in the fabric of his shirt. They stay that way for the span of a several slow breaths until, gingerly, he turns around, catching her hands in his and bending down to kiss her. It is gentle only long enough for him to feel the eagerness of response. Then he is kissing her deeply, hungrily, and in a rush he is lifting her up and she is the one bending over him, reaching down to him, her hands in his hair and on his face. He kisses her and her head is swimming, tingling, dizzy. She feels like she could float away without even using the Force.

Ben breaks off to let her drop more securely into his arms, then cranes his neck down to kiss her again, long and deep, and the next thing she knows, he is striding along the curve of the corridors, carrying her as if she weighs nothing, taking the most direct route to the sleeping quarters. Even so, they almost don't make it. He stops suddenly, midway there, and pins her to a wall so that he may attack her throat and collarbone with those plush lips of his. Rey doesn't think she would mind it if everything happened right here under the arch of the corridor, but they do manage, eventually, to stagger the rest of the way to their goal.

It is one of the smaller beds that Rey finds herself backing into, easier to reach than the large one set into the hull. She falls back and Ben is upon her, setting to work on clothing already rumpled and loose. As long as it took them to get here, this part takes no time at all. In moments, they are naked before each other and he is arching his back above her and kissing her again as his hand tests the heat and wetness between her thighs. Then it is not his hand but his cock that pushes, presses, cleaves into her until she feels full to bursting. He takes her hard, his trembling caution from their time on Ahch-To nothing but a memory now. He takes her frantically, plowing into her, spearing her with breathless abandon. Her legs wrap around him of their own accord, keeping him close. Her fingers cling to his back. She feels it when her nails tear his skin, but she does not let go.

Ben crests quickly—desperate as he is, how could he not?—but hardly a moment passes before two large fingers have replaced his cock and he is kissing the valley between her breasts, then lower, smirking when she flinches and sucks in the tender flesh of her belly.

 _No tickling!_ She shrieks at him in their minds because she can't yet articulate the words aloud.

 _As you wish,_ is his silent reply, and his lips drift lower still, mapping the bony arch of her hip while his fingers work ceaselessly, thrusting and curling within her as his thumb attends to that precious little nub of nerves and flesh. She is fairly sure her eyes have rolled upward into her skull when she comes, convulsing so hard she sits up and he follows, grinning victoriously, to kiss her.

She groans when his hand retreat, leaving her achingly empty, and then he is breaking the kiss and looking at her with wide, fathomless eyes. There is a tremor of fear in his voice when he asks her, "did I hurt you?"

"Yes," Rey says, and it’s true, "but I liked it. Can we do it again?"

His astonishment is the purest thing she has ever seen, until she watches his joy when he determines that she means it. "Give me a minute," he says, breathless laughter behind the words, and he plants a kiss upon her cheek. "Anything for you."

It startles her how sharply the words cut into her heart. How long, she wonders, will it be before she can take anything about him for granted? Never, she thinks, and presses a hand to his shoulder, rolling him over so that she may lavish him with affection to match all that he has given her. He is—as she is constantly reminded—an enormous human being and she simply cannot get enough of it. Once she has got him laying down and has kissed him until her lips are sore, she slithers backwards along the length of his body to mouth at his chest, her hand splayed wide upon it and still dwarfed by its impressive width. His gasp is low and raspy when she takes one of his nipples in her mouth and sucks. It is only one of several intriguing acts she recalls hearing reference to by the chatty traders and travelers who would stop for a drink at Niima Outpost. She has already made a mental list of others to try.

While her mouth explores his chest and the equally ridiculous tree trunk that is his abdomen, one of her hands creeps farther southward, finding her way by feel to the thatch of curly hair and his not-quite-flaccid cock. She gives it a few pumps, listening to Ben whimper, and then she continues her exploration, spidering her fingers around the sac of loose skin between his thighs, still damp with the sweat of their exertions. Ben recites a string of curses in three languages at this, so Rey keeps her touch quite gentle, cupping him in her palm and stroking with her thumb until he groans and arches toward her. She answers by bringing her mouth down to meet him, lipping her way from the base of his cock to the tip and then working it with her hand again until it has very nearly regained its full majesty.

Ben is an absolute mess beneath her and she steals a moment to admire him, to enjoy the haze over his eyes and the part of his kiss-bruised lips, the way sable strands of hair streak his face and he hasn't bothered to brush them aside. The way he lies prone before her, pliant to her every whim, and how that makes her feel dangerously, delightfully powerful. She realizes with something not quite like shame that she is cataloging his parts and how they respond, testing the mechanics of a fallen ship ripe for scavenging. She is taking him apart, finding out which buttons to push, which dials to turn. Her hands quest over his flanks, up the wall of muscle that guards his belly, to brace themselves on the sturdiness of his ribs and from there to pull the rest of her up, sinuous, to straddle him and take him back inside herself at last. There is worship in his eyes when he reaches up and she leans down to let him stroke her cheek. 

It is a treasure, these moments. It is more than she ever thought it would be.


	13. Lay Here Beside Me And Stay For A While

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a late, short chapter. The good news is I’m almost done with my Doctor Who rewatch. >_>
> 
> Chapter title from "Morning Is Made" by Hush Kids
> 
> -

Ben wakes before Rey, tucked between her and the curving wall. They ended up in the larger bed after all, at the end, after taking turns with the cramped sonic shower and indulging in one last sleepy makeout session. Now, warm and relaxed and still pleasantly drowsy, he can just catch the tailing edge of something he has felt only a few times before in his life. As he studies Rey in the low light, mapping the way her hair falls across her face and smiling at the sound of her ever so quiet and adorable snores, he thinks he may know the name of the feeling—that mysterious sensation which tickles the inside of his skull and lessens the weight on his heart. He thinks it may be happiness.

Most days, they wake together, roused by their subconscious sense of the other. Today he is lucky. Perhaps it is that he’s still so relaxed, or perhaps it is that she so thoroughly wore herself out the night before—with his help—but for whatever reason, Rey remains asleep. For Ben, it is a priceless gift simply to lie beside her and listen to her breathing. Never in his life did he imagine how much he needed this—just this.

If only he could bask in it for more than the fleeting moment he is granted before doubt and self-hatred come creeping back up from the place in his gut where they sleep.

Rey turns her head and mumbles something, brow creasing. If she must be woken, Ben decides, it ought to be to something nice. He surrenders to the constant urge to touch her, tracing his fingertips over the freckled softness of her cheek and along the line of that stubbornly square jaw he adores. The tension leaves her face and he almost thinks she will sink back into sleep, but then her eyes flutter open and her mouth curves into a drowsy smile and this, he decides, is just as precious a gift.

"Hi."

"Hello, Love," he answers.

That smile of hers curls further upward, giving her the look of a satisfied tooka. "I like it when you call me that."

"Then I'll keep calling you that."

She rolls over, props herself up on her elbows, and kisses him on the nose. "I need the 'fresher. Be right back."

She goes without waiting for a response, and Ben lays where he is, cleansed of his momentary melancholy by her smile and the memories of the night before.

When Rey comes back, he takes a turn, and it is there at the tiny, narrow mirror in the 'fresher that he stops—there that the simple facts of his reality send him, not for the first time, reeling.

There is a moment when he does not recognize his own face. He is not as vain as he used to be, not as concerned with physical appearances as he had been when he played the role of the young and regally lonely boy prince, nor that of the intimidating, untouchable warlord. Those priorities changed when Rey came into his life.

In a single standard year, he feels like he has aged ten. Looks it, too, in his opinion. There are gray hairs at his temples. Only a few, hardly noticeable, but there. Even after a good night's sleep, his face is still too pale and the hollows of his eyes too dark. The scar Rey gave him is gone. He knew that it was, but this is the first he has looked closely at its absence. He remembers the hopeful words Rey had spoken in the Ahch-To meadow, declaring that they were new people, the two of them—that they were free to leave their old lives behind. It is proving a more difficult thing than she had made it sound.

But Rey is his light, his lifeline, quite literally his other half. He loves her. He has loved her since the day he met her, since he looked into her mind and she into his. Nothing else in the galaxy matters, just Rey, and he will find it in him, somehow, to do every impossible thing she asks.

When the existential crisis and other 'fresher-related necessities are taken care of, he emerges into an empty room, but it is no matter at all to follow the pull of the bond through the curving corridor until he finds Rey precisely where he expects to—bent over in the main hold with her head in one of the cabinets full of food stores. The desire to touch her is everything then. He is like a man possessed. His feet move and he is beside her. His hand lifts, as much by a mind of its own, and his palm is on her back. She doesn't stop, but she slows, and he can feel her muscles relaxing under his touch.

"How are you this morning?" His voice comes out lower than he means it to, dry from sleep.

"Hmm. A bit sore." 

She says it with no trace of regret, but he withdraws his touch immediately. "I'm sorry."

Rey doesn't stop what she's doing, making her response seem discordantly casual. "I like it. I like that I can still feel you."

Her words do strange, fluttery things to his insides. He doesn't know how to respond, so he asks, sounding somewhat choked, "What's for breakfast?"

Her answer comes muffled by the scrape and clatter of boxes and cans and sealed packages. "If I can find it, there's a..." she trails off, letting the mystery hang in the air, then out she pulls a cylindrical canister shaped out of hard wood instead of the standard metal. Rather than finish her explanation out loud, she simply shakes it in the air for Ben to see.

"Is that Kashyyykian Marshgrain flour?" He almost doesn’t believe his eyes. 

"Is that what it's called in Basic? Chewie gave it to me. He said it was a family tradition."

"It was my favorite when I was a kid," Ben explains before he can think better of it. "Uncle Chewie used to make it whenever someone came home from a trip." Which usually meant whenever Han came home, he thinks bitterly, and then he sees the way Rey is staring at him and realizes what he just said. It's the 'Uncle Chewie' that hangs in the air, clear as an echo. Clear as a bell toll. He hadn't meant to say it that way, but like the ringing of a bell, he cannot take back.

"Oh..." Rey turns the canister in her hands, studying the engraved label. "Should we save it, then?"

"No," says Ben, and he tries not to let his throat tighten, nor his eyes grow too damp. "Now's as good a time as any."

Inside the canister is a powdered grain, pale yellow and soft as fine sand. Without any need for spoken agreement, Ben takes over the meal preparation, measuring the powder into a bowl and mixing it with water. The resulting mush he shapes into patties and fries on the Falcon's little stove just long enough to crisp the edges. If he times it right, they'll stay soft and fluffy enough in the middle to melt on the tongue.

"What was he like when you were a kid?" Rey asks. "Chewie, I mean." He could hear the question forming in her thoughts before she speaks, and still it catches him off guard. 

"He was kind," Ben answers. "Good with kids."

"Did you spend a lot of time together?"

What a way to sour a beautiful morning. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"He'll forgive you. I know he will."

"Rey..."

"You should talk to him. When you're ready, I mean."

He flips a marshgrain patty.

"I'm sorry. I just don't want you to hide away from your family forever. There are still people who care about you."

And he's still wondering what brought this on. Was it only the mention of Chewie, or was it something else? Then again, he knows Rey and how passionate she is about the concept of family. "I talked to my mother."

"But not Luke."

Even now, it only takes hearing that name spoken to turn his knuckles white on the handle of the spatula. "Luke tried to kill me, remember?"

"You tried to kill him. Doesn't that make you even?"

"No."

Rey huffs out a breath, plainly frustrated. "I'm trying to help, Ben."

"You're not."

There is silence in response, and a distinct sense of hurt across the bond which she makes no effort to hide. She might, in fact, be projecting it on purpose.

One of the marshgrain patties has burned.

"... I'm sorry," says Ben, and it's true because it is always true, but that doesn't mean he was wrong.

"I just want to help," Rey says again, her voice gone small.

It takes some work, but Ben musters a smile. "You can't save me from myself, Love. I have to do that."

Rey doesn't respond to that, and he knows she doesn't quite agree, but the food is ready—that which survived, anyway. He takes a pair of plates from the rack and piles them both high with hot, fragrant patties. "I don't suppose we have any Andorian jelly?"

"What's that?" Rey asks, and it breaks his heart a little.

"Never mind. These will be fine without it." He resolves to buy some for her later, as no one who loves food as much as Rey does should live her life without tasting Andorian jelly. 

They sit together in the booth by the dejarik table. Rey, as usual, spends the next few minutes wholly engrossed in her food. Just as Ben feels himself relaxing again after the strain of their brief conflict, she gulps down a mouthful and asks, crumbs on her lips, "Ben, why didn't you come with me after Snoke died?"

It renders him speechless at first, because somehow he did not sense this one coming, and the lack of warning is as painful as the question itself. Finally all he can think to say, again, is, "I'm sorry."

But Rey swipes a hand across her mouth and shakes her head. "You don't have to apologize. I just want to know. I don't understand."

Ben sighs, sets his plate down, and buries his face in his hands. "I was afraid. Can we not talk about it right now?"

Yet she is locked on to her target and she persists. "I just want to know what I did wrong—what I should have said. I don't want to fail you again."

"You did everything right. I wasn't ready, that's all." He doesn't mean to snap—not when she is so plainly haunted by doubt and concern—but that is how the words shape themselves, hard and swift and conclusive.

Rey sinks into her seat beside him, gaze downcast. "I'm sorry."

Ah, he's done it now, hasn't he? He's been harsh with her, hurt her feelings the way Kylo Ren would have done, and he had not even been trying. How many times must they apologize to each other? "Maybe we shouldn't talk about the past," he suggests, though all he wants to do is say he’s sorry again.

"Alright..." 

It is a concession more than an agreement, but dragging the issue out would be harder than accepting a partial victory, so he leaves it be. "Do you like the food?"

"Yes," she says. "It's perfect." 

  
-< >-

  
When Rey finally goes out to check on her friends—Ben tagging along at her heels like a bad-tempered dog—it is to find the canyon all but completely transformed. With the bombardment ended, rebels are hard at work salvaging all they can from their original base. She spots Rose Tico standing on top of a crate to augment her short stature as she directs the flow of hover transports and the people unloading them. It seems the Resistance has chosen to remain in the canyon and cave system rather than move back. Why they didn't set up here to begin with, now that she thinks of it, Rey isn't sure, but it probably had something to do with Poe Dameron's gung-ho impatience. Most things did.

Poe is back in his office, or perhaps he never left. He is skimming over a datapad while Beaumont hovers beside him, fidgeting. Rey knows that Poe has seen her, but he says not a word nor looks up from his work until he is done. "They're trying to cheat us," he says to Beaumont when he hands back the datapad. "Ask for more weapons. We know they've sold to the First Order. They're not hurting."

"Yes, Sir," says Beaumont in his soft-spoken way and clears out hastily, sparing no more than a nervous nod in Rey's direction.

"So, you're leaving?" Poe queries, skipping the pleasantries.

"No," says Rey, and she hadn't known she was going to until the word is off her tongue.

Poe visibly tries not to frown. "You want to stick around?"

"I want to help the Resistance." And to prove that Ben can be trusted and you don't have to keep glaring at us that way, she doesn’t add.

"The Republic Alliance," Poe corrects. "Fine." At least he does not argue. "We got a report two days ago from one of our allies in the core. Couldn't do anything about it at the time because of our situation here. They've been trying to push out the First Order since before Exegol, but they don't have the firepower. I can't afford to send enough ships or people to make a real difference, but a couple of Force users might do the trick."

"What system?" Rey asks.

"Chandrila."

Behind her, Ben shifts his weight. She worries, almost reaches out to him, but in her head, that funny little version of her own voice tells her to let him stand on his own. To keep pushing him to face his past. He needs it.

"Chandrila it is, then," Rey concludes. "I've been wanting to see it."


	14. It's Only Me Who Wants To Wrap Around Your Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. Hi. I haven’t updated in more than a month and it’s not even Wednesday, so this one’s a double! Chapters 14 and 15.
> 
> Chapter title from “Dreams” by Fleetwood Mac
> 
> -

  
Poe insists on seeing them again before they leave, going so far as to come to the Falcon and buzz them from the comm which Rey has recently repaired outside the loading ramp. When she comes to meet him, Ben looming behind her with a glower, it is to see not just Poe but BB-8, who greets her with a bright series of beeps and rolls on up the ramp as if he’s expected.

"He's going with you," Poe says without preamble. "He knows your contact in Hanna City."

Rey is fairly certain that he could have given her the info on their contact and trusted her to handle it herself, and that BB-8's real purpose is once again to keep an eye on her, but she doesn't feel up to fighting over it. "Fine with me. I'm sure he'll be useful." And she takes just a little pleasure in the frown on Poe's face, sensing that he _wanted_ her to argue, if only to relieve some of his vexation. She shuts the Falcon's hatch without giving him that satisfaction.

To Ben, she asks sweetly, "Ready to go?" but he does not reply.

-

Chandrila. The former seat of the New Republic before their relocation to Hosnian Prime, and the planet on which Ben Solo was born. Rey had wanted to see it someday. She had not expected that day to come so soon.

Ben has closed himself off from her again. The apparent ease with which he can do that is becoming quite a source of frustration, though she is trying her best not to pressure him. Why, though, can he not be open with her, she wonders? She has seen him at his worst and at his lowest. What more could he have to hide? She can't quite work up the nerve to ask him, and either he does not hear the question in her thoughts or he does not have an answer to give.

As close as they are now, Rey muses, somehow, sometimes, they are still so far apart.

The flight there is short despite the distance. There are many well-used hyperlanes to the core worlds. Ben insists on doing the piloting, tells her he wants to, tells her it keeps his mind busy—that even flying his father's "piece of garbage" ship is better than having nothing to do and everything to think about. 

Rey marvels at the shape of him in the pilot's chair as his father's golden dice clatter overhead.

With him in the pilot's seat and their course locked, it is Rey who has nothing to do. After a bit of aimless wandering, she decides to take inventory. Chandrila will be the place to restock on everything the Ajan Kloss base could not spare. When she mentions this aloud, wondering if Poe gave her enough credits for a resupply on top of the food and necessities to last their mission, Ben tells her not to worry about it—that he will take care of the money. 

Throughout the trip, he does not smile, does not kiss her, and barely touches her. Although their bond is shut too tight to tell, Rey knows him well enough to know— or to suspect, at least—that the stress of going where they are going has him hiding inside himself, waiting for the voyage to be over. Since he won't let her in, there is nothing she can do but wait with him to come back to her.

According to BB-8, who heard it from Poe, if one is visiting Chandrila for political reasons, then Hanna City is the place to go. It is not so great a coincidence, then, that their destination is not only Ben's planet of birth but the very city in which he spent his childhood. Still, to Rey, it feels unbelievable. If nothing else, it feels too soon.

Their contact, according to Poe, is a young rebel spy who made a name for himself among an outlying Resistance cell, spared from the massacre on Crait. Rey has never met Kazuda Xiono, but Poe and BB-8 both speak highly of him. He meets her and Ben at the dock, identifying himself with the code phrase Poe had prepared them for and coming aboard when they lower the ramp. The plan is to keep Rey and Ben out of the public eye and, with any luck, preserve their game of double-cross as long as possible.

Kazuda is lean and dark-haired with bright, eager eyes, disarmingly youthful. Rey likes him right away, even when he greets her like she’s a celebrity. "Wow... Rey Skywalker. Wow, it's really you. Poe said... I mean..." He clears his throat. "Is it true you're a Jedi?"

Rey glances sidelong at Ben, but he only looks back at her guardedly. At a loss for how to answer—She is not a Jedi but she and Ben are the closest thing alive right now—she settles for holding out a hand and levitating one of the big storage containers a few inches off the floor.

Kazuda's eyes go very big. "Th-That's amazing! With you on our side, we'll have the First Order out of here in no time!"

As much as the Force makes for an impressive display, there is still the bantha in the room to deal with, and since Kazuda has not said a word about it and Ben has not said a word at all, Rey is the one who has to nudge things along. "It's not just me. This is Ben Solo. He's taught me just as much about the Force as Luke did."

Kazuda's eyes flick to Ben and then back to Rey in the span of half a second. "I, uh, yeah... Poe mentioned him." A second time, his eyes flicker in Ben's direction. He seems to be trying not to get a good look at his face. He must already know the rest.

"You have nothing to fear from me." It is Ben who makes the reassurances. "I'm only here to help Rey."

"Uh.... sure." Kazuda looks decidedly unconvinced.

When the following silence stretches on too long, Rey changes the subject. "What's the situation here? Poe didn't give us many details."

"Right! Okay, uh, so we're..."

"Maybe," Ben cuts in, low and soft as if he's afraid of alarming their new acquaintance, "We should sit down and offer our guest a drink."

Kazuda's eyes are still a little too wide, but he makes no verbal objection. Rey says, "Right, sorry. This way,” and leads them on the short journey from the front hold to the main one, feeling a strange sort of tickle at the notion of showing someone else around her living space. It might, she thinks, be pride.

Just as they are stepping into the larger space, BB-8 comes rolling their way fast enough to make Rey hop sideways for fear of her toes being crushed. Thankfully, Kazuda moves to meet him, grinning enormously. "It's good to see you too, Beebee-Ate! Seebee asks about you all the time! Yes," he adds after a short sequence of beeps from BB, "I'll tell her you said hi."

Thanks to this icebreaker, he is less stiff, but he still hesitates to sit down until Ben has moved off to fetch their drinks. When he does sit, it seems to dawn on him exactly where he is. All around the hold his eyes wander, his nervousness forgotten in favor of wonder. "I never thought I'd see the Millennium Falcon. I _definitely_ never thought I'd be inside it. I mean, don't get me wrong, I've seen a lot, being a spy and all," at this he puffs himself up a little, "but... Wow."

BB-8 chirps something that’s half amusement, half agreement, and Rey can't help smiling at their guest's childish delight. It reminds her of her own. "The Falcon's a good ship."

"She's a _great_ ship," Kazuda insists. "I can't believe you get to _fly_ her. What's it like?"

"It’s fussy," Rey admits, "and old. It's hard to find the parts to fix it when it breaks down. It's fast though. That part is true."

"Ever raced her?"

"Raced her?" The question is not one Rey expected. "No. I've never thought about it. It's all been running and hiding and fighting the First Order since I left Jakku."

"Han used to race her." This is Ben as he comes back across the hold with the handles of three cups clutched in one enormous hand and a plate of snacks balanced on the other. Rey puzzles over the tiny sweet-smelling squares until she realizes he has cut up a couple of the most expensive ration bars—the ones with dried fruit pressed into them—to make something pseudo-fancy to go with the hot tea he’s prepared. When drinks and food are arranged, he sits at the end of the booth opposite Kazuda, leaving Rey between them for their guest’s comfort.

"I didn't know that," says Rey, and helps herself to one of the little ration bites. 

"I did," says Kazuda. "Han Solo was famous. Mostly he organized races, or funded them, but sometimes he ran. This ship never lost."

Rey is enchanted by the story despite herself, turning to Ben with a tentative smile. "Did you ever see him race when you were little?"

"A few times." Ben doesn't meet her eyes, but his voice is steady. "He never let me ride with him. said it was too dangerous. I remember being angry about it, but he was probably right."

Where before, Kazuda could barely glance in Ben's direction, now he is staring. Does it hurt him, Rey wonders, to hold his eyes so wide open for so long? "Wait, hold on, you're... She said your name was Solo. I didn't even think—I mean, I thought..."

"Han Solo was my father," Ben confirms patiently. "Your General Organa was my mother."

"But you're..." Kazuda's voice cracks. He is so tense from nerves that he looks like he might start vibrating. "I thought... and Poe said... And you look like..."

"Who do I look like?" Ben prompts, and it almost sounds to Rey like he's playing with the boy, albeit with all the weight of his remorse to temper the game.

"Uhh... You know what, never mind. My mistake. Very, very big mistake. Sorry."

Ben shakes his head. "Don't be. I am who you think I am." And here he looks to Rey for a moment, and she to him, willing him to find the strength he needs to apologize. It is as much for him as it is for Kazuda. "I made... a lot of mistakes," he begins. "Rey helped me find my way back from them—Rey and my mother and my father. I'm sorry for any pain I caused you or your loved ones."

It is the most formal apology Rey has heard from him, yet still sincere, and he does not even look like he wants to weep at the end. He is coming to terms with it all, she thinks, slowly but surely.

"Okay. So..." Kazuda, Rey learns, has quite a distinct look about him when he is putting puzzle pieces together. "You're Kylo Ren. And the General's son. Look, I get it. I have a friend who joined the First Order for a while. I guess everybody makes mistakes, yeah?"

"I guess so."

Yet again, Rey finds herself having to pull them back out of an uncomfortable silence. "Okay, so, the First Order..."

"Right, yeah." Kazuda shakes himself to attention. "They've been occupying Chandrila pretty much since they first rose to power, but there's been a lot of resistance... even without the Resistance." He laughs at his own joke. "This _was_ the seat of the New Republic for a while, and I guess a lot of Chandrilans are still loyal. There's not much left of the First Order now. They pulled most of their troops a few weeks ago, but the officers they left behind are used to being in charge, and everyone else here is used to being afraid of them. So I guess what we need is a push."

"I'm surprised the crew of the Colossus has not instigated that push already," muses Ben, and Rey is bewildered to realize that she has no idea what he is talking about, but Kazuda clearly does. "As I recall, you took down a Star Destroyer not long ago."

"Yeah, we did do that." Kazuda flushes, radiating not only surprise at the acknowledgment, but pride. "The Colossus isn't here, though. They're helping with cleanup on Naboo right now." Naboo had thrown out the First Order almost as soon as the battle at Exegol was over. Rey remembers that report coming in before she'd left for Tatooine. "I was sent on an escort mission to Chandrila," Kazuda continues, "and caught wind of the situation here. Poe asked me to stay and keep tabs on it until he could send reinforcements. That's you."

Rey sets down her tea and leans toward him, bracing her elbows on her knees. "Alright, Kazuda. How do you think we should do this?"

"I've got some ideas," says the bright-eyed spy, "and call me Kaz."

There are, according to Kaz, two major obstacles to reclaiming Chandrila for the Republic. One is the planet's current president—a largely powerless figurehead, but loyal to the First Order. The other is the power behind the throne—one Moff Roshan, a survivor of the Empire's fall who was recruited by the First Order during its formation. 

"I know him," says Ben, scowling as if at the taste of something bitter. "The Moff is wily and experienced, but he's arrogant too. He never believed the First Order would be as great as the Empire. Turns out he was right about that."

"Will he listen if you pretend to be the Supreme Leader?" Rey asks, though she hates to give him another reason to keep playing that role.

"Not if I tell him to abandon the planet with no rationale. He'll check in with General Sloane and she's bound to be suspicious of us already."

"So we need a convincing reason," says Rey.

"Or we assassinate him." Ben suggests it blandly and she frowns at him.

"Let's save that for a last resort."

"Fair enough."

She isn't thrilled with his nonchalance at the prospect of killing in cold blood, but if it turns out to be the price of saving more lives...

"I met a guy who's been organizing protests," offers Kaz. "I could tell him we need one. A big one. Would that be enough of a reason, do you think?"

Ben scratches his chin and lets his eyes wander—a gesture of contemplation that Rey has not seen from him before. "... Maybe, if it's big enough. If there have been others already and with the First Order spread as thin as it is... It might be a start, at least."

"We could use the Force," Rey suggests. "The mind trick. Make him think the threat is bigger than it is."

"Yes, if we have to." Ben looks at Kaz, studying him up and down. Rey isn't sure what he's looking for, but after a moment of thought, he repeats himself. "Yes. Talk to your acquaintance. How quickly can he organize this event?"

Here Kazuda looks apologetic. "It'll take a few days."

"We can wait," Ben says before Rey can voice her concern. "As long as we can avoid being seen."

The First Order might have questions if their Supreme Leader is spotted mingling on the streets of Chandrila, but... "I was going to pick up supplies," Rey points out.

"Can you do that for us, Kazuda?" Ben asks. "If we give you the necessary credits?"

"S-sure. Not a problem. Do you need a place to stay, too?"

"We'll stay on the Falcon, and it's best if you come to us in person with updates. I'd rather not risk anyone tapping into a comm call."

"Right. That makes sense..." Kazuda sounds doubtful, but Rey's impression in the Force is that he is only overwhelmed by his role in their plans and by who exactly he is making those plans with. She hopes that his nervousness will not hinder him more than they can afford.

"Won't they recognize the Falcon?" Rey wonders.

"If they bother to scan one little freighter among thousands." Ben sounds unconcerned. "Finding somewhere else to hide might draw as much attention as not."

That seems logical, though she can't help wondering if Ben is motivated in part by a desire to stay in a familiar place. "Is there anything else we should know?" This she asks of Kaz, trying to mimic Ben's composure and air of authority. Being someone who others look up to still feels strange and awkward.

"I don't think so. I'll, uh... Do you want me to come back after I've talked to the guy about the protest?"

"Yes, please," says Ben, "and Rey will give you our supply list. Beebee-Ate," As far as Rey remembers, it is the first time he’s addressed the droid directly, despite the intersection of their histories. "Show him where the buzzer is outside the loading ramp so he can let us know when he comes back."

The droid beeps consent and wobbles impatiently back and forth while Kazuda stands up and Rey fetches the datapad with her list on it. "Thank's for all this, Kaz. We appreciate it."

"Uh, yeah, no problem. And if there's anything else you need, just let me know." There is still an awkwardness when he meets Ben’s eyes, but it is nothing like it was.

"Keep our identities a secret," Ben instructs, and for a moment he is all authority and intimidation again. "From your protest organizer. From the Colossus. If one word gets back to the First Order, we lose this advantage."

"Got it." Kazuda salutes. "Not a word. Alright, I'm coming." This last part is directed at the impatient ball droid. "Lead the way, Beebee-Ate."

Rey waits to hear the hum of the ramp engaging—once and then a second time, signaling that their contact has departed and that BB-8 has sealed up the ship. Then she finishes her tea and puts voice to her thoughts. "So we're stuck here for a few days. What do you want to do?"

"I have some ideas," Ben answers, and she likes the sound of that.

-< >-

The first thing Ben does, with Rey's expert help, is to go through the Falcon from bow to stern and catalog every piece that could do with being repaired or replaced, because what Rey had said to their contact was correct—it is not easy getting new parts for such an old model and they might as well find out what a wealthy planet like Chandrila has to offer. 

When Kazuda returns with their first list of supplies, he is sent right back out with another.

The next thing Ben does is go to the second-largest hold on the Falcon and Force-lift everything out of it. When that's done, he presents it to Rey as their "training room" and explains, "if we're going to keep fighting this war, we need to keep our skills sharp."

Rey looks delighted at the work he has done, but responds cheekily, "I think you just want an excuse to be my teacher."

And if she wants to play that game, then who is he to deny her? "Perhaps I do. What would you like me to teach you?"

"Tomorrow, lightsaber techniques." Her voice lilts over the next words. "Tonight, I want to see what you can do with all that fresh food Kaz brought."

Ben laughs in the way he only can for Rey. "I should have known. Come on, then. I'll make you a meal fit for an empress."

But Rey stiffens and scrunches up her face at those words. "Oh, not that."

He realizes his mistake, of course. It is a minefield between them always, but he does his best to maintain the lightness of the mood. "A Jedi, then."

And yet to this, Rey looks equally put off. "Well, that just sounds boring."

"Alright," he concedes, and he smiles at her until she smiles in return. "Then I will make a meal fit for the love of my life."

Every time he speaks that word, Rey meets it with a blush. That holds true now, accompanied by a strangled sort of tone to her voice when she answers, "That sounds nice."

Ben cannot help feeling a little smug as he offers her his hand and leads her back to the main hold.

-

Dinner is wonderful, as is snuggling together while they digest and the eventual lovemaking that follows. All together it might be one of the best nights of Ben's life. It really is just his luck, then, that the nightmares catch up with him after several nights of peace.

He is standing in the dark of a familiar night, his uncle's school before him, cast in moonlight. Insects chirp from nearby trees. There are stormclouds gathering, though they yet shroud only a quarter of the starry sky.

Someone is standing several paces in front of him. No, he realizes quickly—not just someone. He would know that figure anywhere. The way she stands, the way she breathes... every feature and trait is chiseled into his soul like writing on stone. The intruder in this memory is Rey, and she is waiting for him.

Ben forgets to care where he is, or when. He takes a step forward, begins to take another, but Rey is moving as soon as he is, turning, putting her back to him and thrusting a hand upward toward the oncoming storm. Her fingers curl like the grasping talons of a bird of prey. 

There is no time to brace himself then, no time to prepare mentally for what is about to happen, despite having already lived it. The lightning falls like a pillar from the heavens. The explosion sends him sprawling, breath knocked out of him by the rocky ground. When he can rise, it is to see her poised in silhouette by the pyre, head thrown back, laughing.

It is not a cruel laugh. Not a cackle of victory nor of vengeance. It is the sound of freedom. Of release. A sound of relief and joy. It is the way he would expect her to laugh in the rain, or at the antics of a small child. It is not a laugh suited for death and destruction, and that is the worst part of it. When he steps forward again, Rey turns her head to look at him, though the sound of his footsteps is nothing in the roar and crackle of the fire, and she has not stopped laughing.

"Rey..." What can he say to her? What will make her listen? "Please."

She only smiles at him and turns back to watch the shattered building burn.

He closes the distance between them to stand beside her.

"It's beautiful." Her voice is soft and sweet and full of wonder. "Did you ever stop to look at it, Ben? Did you watch it burn?"

"I ran," he tells her, and he holds out his hand, palm up in offering, as he has done so many times before. "Come with me. It's not too late, Rey."

"Oh, my Ben." She gives him that smile again and it is like poison. "My beautiful Ben... My _brave_ Ben. There is no running from this. There never was. You could fly beyond the last star at the edge of the galaxy and still it would find you. The Dark is patient, and it is generous, and it always wins. You know that."

"No."

At that she turns fully to face him again, her right hand rising with slow and measured intent. Her palm is cold like death when she places it over his. Here, rather than let him get a firm grip on her and lead her away from the fire, she pulls him to her, reels him in with inhuman strength. When only a few short inches divide them, her other hand moves, rises to caress his cheek, to trail down the side of his neck and wind its way to rest above his heart. Here her fingers curl, sink into the fabric of his shirt and then deeper, twisting, tearing, piercing skin and muscle, worming around bone. It does not hurt until he thinks too long about it, and then, in the manner of dream, his thoughts define reality. Then there is fiery agony and he is gasping and trying to wrench away, but she has him like a fly in a ginntho's web. Something holds him in place no matter how he struggles, lending her time to tear him apart at a leisurely pace. The only freedom he is allowed is to sink to his knees while she bares his beating heart to the starlight. 

"My Ben," says the Darkness that has taken his lover's shape. "Mine." And her fingers squeeze tight around his bloody heart.

Ben wakes to the sound of a scream and the sight of Rey's worried face hovering over him. Only belatedly, as he registers her expression, does he understand that the scream was his own.

"Ben, Ben, I'm here. I have you." Her choice of words is not as reassuring as she no doubt means it to be, given the context of his dream, and when her hand comes up to touch his face, he flinches. That stops her cold. It is the look of hurt in her eyes and the echo of it across the bond that brings him back to reality.

He sits up too quickly, and then hesitates. It is Rey who reaches out to thumb away the tears he had not known he'd cried. It is Rey who leans in to kiss his cheek and his brow and his lips, coaxing him further out of the shadow of his dreams and into her radiance. She is intoxicatingly beautiful like this, with her hair down and her skin bare, lit only by the dim glow of the Falcon's guide lights. He memorizes the scene as best he can. If he lives to grow old and forget all else, he will remember this.

"Bad dream?" she asks him, and the almost-whisper of her voice is as much a balm as her touch, even despite the memory of it mocking one of his worst failures.

He manages a weary smile. "Afraid so."

"Want to talk about it?"

He doesn't. "I want to forget it."

"Okay." And she is upon him, sliding the softness of her bare rump onto his lap and leaning in to kiss him again, melting into him when his arms come around her.

They do not make love this time, both still heavy and slow with the need for sleep, but it is divine, the feather-soft touches and the long, wandering kisses. Physical touch was something Ben had denied himself for so long that even having been with Rey every day for weeks now, it renders him dizzy. He wonders if it always will.

They don't break apart until Ben sinks back down, and then only reluctantly to let Rey pull the blanket over them both. Satisfied, she settles against his side with her head pillowed on his shoulder and an arm slung over his chest, possessive. Like this, under her guard, he is able to find sleep again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I promise I did not plan in advance to throw Ben and Rey into a situation where they have to isolate while the city is protesting. It's what came to me as I was writing the scene and trying to make things work, though I'm sure there was subconscious influence. We all cope with things in our own ways, I guess?


	15. With You These Streets Are Heaven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that this is a double update, so if you've just found this chapter, be sure to click back and start with the one before it!
> 
> Chapter title from "Exodus `04" by Utada Hikaru
> 
> -

Breakfast is elaborate by their standards, taking advantage of the fresh supplies Kazuda had delivered. Rey washes and slices meiloorun fruit while Ben fries nuna eggs, digging deep into the Falcon's stash of dried herbs and spices to season them. Many of these spices have been there since the last time his parents came to visit him at Luke's school, if not longer, although it looks like Chewbacca has finished off the ground mallow root.

They eat in companionable silence, sitting close enough to let thighs and shoulders touch. Only as Rey is licking the last of the meiloorun juice from her fingers does she speak. "I've been thinking about what we can do while we wait. Sparring is a good idea, but I want to practice with the Force in other ways, too. We haven't done that. Not except when we needed to."

This intrigues Ben. "What do you want to practice?"

She gets up to take her empty plate back to the kitchenette while she answers. "I don't know. Everything. What we did on the Star Destroyer. How we found them in the first place..."

It makes him smile. It reminds him of himself, that eager curiosity to understand the Force in all of its facets, as much for the sake of simply knowing as for having the skills on hand. It was one thing Snoke had never succeeded in driving out of him. "Alright. We'll practice."

They make use of the newly appointed training room for this as well, sitting together in the center of the empty floor, cross-legged and facing each other as they had done before. Rey has instructed BB-8 to keep an eye on things from the helm.

"We're going to travel in the Force," Ben explains. "Not with our bodies. With our minds."

"Like what we did to find the Star Destroyers."

"And to sabotage them, yes."

"Alright." She wiggles in place—actually _wiggles_ —just a little, like an excited voorpak. "What are we looking for?"

Ben hesitates only a moment. He had not officially decided on something when they sat down, but the object had come to mind upon their arrival on Chandrila and now it leaps to his tongue. "I hid something when I was a child, inside the wall of the apartment we lived in. A sliver of kyber crystal Luke gave me. It should be unique and attuned closely enough to my Force signature that you can find it."

"What if it's not there anymore?" Rey asks.

"Then we won't find it, but we'll still have practiced by trying. Now, reach out. The apartment was near the city center."

-< >-

With that clue, Rey's assignment is almost too easy. She stretches out her mind, expands her awareness as if the Force is an extra appendage, an extension of her own body with which to comb the city. At first she is overwhelmed by the blinding light of life, for every living thing is a point around which the Force gathers. As her senses adjust, however, the variances take shape. The Force moves differently within different people, and in some cases around places themselves, or objects. The Force is strongest where there is life, yes, but also where there is history. It clings to memory like a ghost, and so when Rey finds what she is looking for, it is not just the rock itself but the whole apartment that stands out, laced all through with the traces of those who once dwelled there. The imprints of Leia and of Ben come as no surprise, but as she studies the energy of the place with her mind's eye, she thinks she can feel even something distinctly Han-like.

The kyber is its own source of energy, humming a sleepy song that turns curious at her mental touch. The thing has just as much awareness as the one that powers her lightsaber, and although they have never met, it recognizes her. It recognizes Ben through her. It reaches out as she reaches for it... and Rey has an idea.

 _We should bring your crystal back with us,_ she thinks at Ben, finding it less challenging than before to tug on the bond without pulling herself wholly back into her body.

 _Someone else lives there now,_ he reminds her. _It might be awkward to arrive at their door and ask to pull a rock out of the wall._

 _I don't think we have to,_ says Rey, and then, _Help me._

The crystal wants to be claimed. It is lonely and without purpose and it misses its boy. It has little in common with the one in Ben's saber—never tortured nor turned against its nature—only left behind. Rey feels something of a kinship with it on that note, which, she hopes, will help her with what she means to do.

 _Be one with me,_ she thinks, and Ben lets the bond open wide. She knows it when he senses the shape of her intent, when after his moment of surprise, he molds his will around hers and together they reach, connect, _pull._

It is startling, the sensation of an object appearing in her hand with no velocity behind it. She has only felt the opposite before now. If that were not enough on its own to break the trance and drop her firmly back into her waiting body, Ben's eagerness to see their success would have done it. When she opens her eyes, he is already leaning in to peer at the tiny crystal in her palm.

"How did you know we could do that?"

"I didn't," she almost laughs. "But I thought... It felt so much like you, like a piece of you was still with it. I don't think it would have worked otherwise."

"No," he agrees, and he accepts the pale shard of rock when she tips it into his hand, "but it might work with our other kyber crystals."

"The lightsabers!" The idea surprises her enough to evoke a gasp. "I didn't think of that!"

"We'll have to test it," he cautions her, "but it might come in handy if it works."

Rey doesn't want to wait, so they don't. They have little else to do with their time, in any case. They earn a curious look from BB-8 when they leave both sabers in the cockpit, but it is the farthest point from their training room and although they don't know if distance will make a difference, it seems worth trying.

"Yours first," Ben says, but Rey disagrees. 

"No, yours is older. Stronger bond, and it knows both of us."

"Alright. Mine, then."

As it turns out, they are correct. It is more difficult over the smaller distance. The kyber seems to think it is already with them, and then, when at last they do get a lock on it, it is the kyber and _only_ the kyber that appears in their joined hands, leaving the cross-guarded casing behind.

"Well," says Ben, "if we ever need to disable one of our lightsabers, that's one way." 

"We'll work on it," Rey insists, but Ben must first disassemble his saber and replace the crystal and Rey is restless enough by the time he is done that they move on to the promised sparring match.

As with many things between them, it is easier than it was the last time. Ben is as eager as Rey, giving his starlight blade a playful spin before coming at her.

Ben fights differently than he used to. She had noticed it before, on Ahch-To and during the ambush, and she notices it again now. He is freer, lighter, faster, as if the burden of being Kylo Ren had been a physical weight to shed. Despite this, Rey can still match him blow for blow. The bond sings in harmony with the shriek of plasma blades, turning their steps, strikes, and dodges into something more dance than fight. The first bout comes to an end with blades locked, silver against gold, before Rey steps back and lowers her weapon. "When we fought on Starkiller Base, there was a block you did. Something like—" and here she gestures with her blade. "Can you show me how to do it?"

"It's like this." Rather than demonstrating with his own blade, he switches it off, hitches the hilt to his belt, and steps around behind her, standing so close that she can feel the warmth radiating off his chest. A broad hand comes up to lift her saber arm and brace her elbow, adjusting her until he has her exactly where he wants her. "Keep your shoulders back and your elbow below the blade. It's part of the Makashi form. Traditionally it is a one-handed move. You can follow it up with a Force push to make some space between you and your opponent."

"You didn't do that to me."

"No, I didn't."

Rey adjusts her grip until he lets go of her, apparently satisfied. "I read about the forms, but I don't understand them, really."

"Those books you stole won't cover them all. Some were developed later."

She ignored his playful slight against her acquisition of the Jedi texts, as she is half-certain he would have done the same. "Can you teach me?"

"I'll teach you what I know," he agrees, "and if we're lucky, the First Order hasn't lost my collection of lesson holos. Perhaps they will arrange to deliver them to a secure location at the command of their Supreme Leader..."

Rey finds herself downright giddy at the prospect. "Holos about lightsaber techniques? I've only had the texts to go by, and what I learned from you." Which adds up to more than the texts taught her, thanks to the way his muscle memory becomes hers when they share knowledge through the bond. He could have just done that to show her the block, she realizes, but the other way was more enjoyable.

"You'll have everything I can give you. Now, let's practice that move."

-

A day passes, and then another, much the same. They eat, they spar, they make love. Rey sighs over their confinement on the Falcon, wishing she could see more of the city, but the risk remains too great. When Kaz comes back with all of the replacement parts he was able to find, they spend several fruitful hours working on the ship.

They try a few more times, also, to teleport their lightsabers through the Force, but it only works in the way it has before, with one of them passing the saber to their bondmate. Otherwise it is the crystals alone that come, but that is still something. During meals and quiet moments, they ponder ways to make it useful.

Rey is inclined to sleep late, enjoying a luxury she has never had before. To simply lay in bed is paradise with Ben beside her, warm and soft and at peace. Ben, however, is incapable of staying at peace without something to occupy his hands and thoughts, so these sweetest of moments never last as long as Rey wants them to.

On the third day, Rey tells Ben that she needs some time to herself, warns him what she intends to do, and when she is alone, she breathes slowly, clears her mind, and chants "Be with me" until Luke arrives.

"Rey Skywalker..." He sounds amused. The contented warmth in his voice does something bittersweet to her—reminds her of her father, perhaps, though she has barely a memory of him. "Are you really sure about that one? Not that I mind."

"It's better than Rey Palpatine." And that might be the first time she has spoken those two names as one, but they have run through her mind more than often enough.

"See, and here I'd thought you would go for Rey Solo."

She feels herself blush. "Maybe later."

"How is he, by the way?" Here Luke's voice softens, because of course it does, because he is ever the benevolent uncle now that he is dead.

"You don't know?" Rey finds that hard to believe.

"Oh, we do check on you two now and then," the spirit confesses, "but we've been trying to respect your privacy."

Her cheeks feel even hotter and her eyes find the floor. "He's... He's not fine, but he's getting better, I think. He smiles more."

"He is kind to you?"

She hates that he feels he must ask such a thing. She glares at him to tell him so. "Yes, of course. Always. He is trying so hard to make up for what he's done."

"Good. Tell him... No," Luke grimaces there and shakes his head. "Don't tell him anything. He'll talk to me when he's ready."

"Master Luke," Rey redirects the conversation, "I wanted to ask about something else."

"Of course. It's not like I have anywhere to be." There is no bitterness to the words. He seems, if anything, genuinely amused by his current state of being.

"Ben and I have been experimenting with the Dyad bond. We found the kyber crystal you gave him when he was a child and we... brought it to us. Out of thin air."

"How fascinating." Luke sounds interested, but not especially surprised.

"We've been trying to do it with our lightsabers, but all we can get is the kyber crystals. They leave the casings behind."

"That makes sense. I've never seen anything like it, but it's what I would expect."

Disappointment bites at her throat and she swallows it down as best she can. "So there isn't a way to make it work?"

Luke's smile is one of patience. "I didn't say that."

She hates the way he leads her on like this, but to her own annoyance, she misses it too. "What do you think we should do, then?"

"I don't know," his scoff is one of humor. "I never would have thought to try what you're doing. Maybe you're not thinking about it right. Maybe you expected the crystal to come on its own and the Force obeyed you."

"I don't think that's..."

"Subconsciously, I mean. Maybe what you need to connect with isn't just your bond with your kyber crysstal, but the residue of your own Force that's seeped into the rest of the lightsaber."

Rey stares at him pointedly. "I thought you didn't know how to do this."

The ghost of Luke Skywalker shrugs, a picture of nonchalance. "It's just a guess."

-

They try his guess later that day, after Rey has related the conversation to Ben. It does not work—neither with her saber nor with Ben's—but Rey is sure afterward that something felt different.

Early in the evening, Kazuda comes again, unexpectedly—or at least so to Rey. Now it is Ben who asks for privacy, and it is the main hold he requests to have for himself and whatever he has schemed with their contact. Confused but happy because he seems happy, Rey retreats to their bed to do some reading. She almost succeeds in distracting herself enough not to go crazy with wondering what the unlikely collaborators could be up to.

When Ben taps gently on the door of her mind, it is to say, in a playfully formal tone of thought, _There is something for you outside our quarters. You may put it on if you like. Whether you do or not, I would be honored if you joined me in the main hold._

She checks, and discovers a parcel wrapped in brown paper of all things. Having no idea what to expect, she is entirely bewildered to find within it a gown of shimmery cloth, twilight blue with a silver trim of raised thread—embroidery, she thinks it's called, though she has only seen it from a distance before.

As for the quality of garment, Rey doubts that she has ever seen anything to match. Perhaps once or twice when meeting potential allies with Leia, but all memories of fine dresses pale in the light of the one she holds now. She is afraid at first that she won't know how to put it on, but it proves simple enough to slip into. Ben must have thought of that, knowing her as well as he does. There is no mirror in their quarters big enough to be of much use—if there once had been, Han had likely sold or broken it—so she straightens out the dress as best she can while looking down at herself and calls it good. If she hasn't got it on right, that will be Ben's fault, not hers.

The main hold, when she arrives, is completely transformed. She sees no sign of Kazuda, but that is a fleeting observation compared to the wonder before her. The ugly old Falcon hulls are hung with intricately patterned cloth, and at the center of the room is a square table she has never seen before, laden with such large silver-lidded platters that it barely has room to spare for plates and silverware and the narrow vase at the center with its single blue flower. Only when she stares at it long enough does she realize that under the elegant tablecloth it is simply two storage crates laid on their sides and pushed together. The two backless chairs prove to be smaller crates bedecked in cushions and more of the same silky-looking fabric, and above it all hangs an elaborate cluster of orb-shaped lights that cast the whole space in a glow like that of evening sunlight. It is all so much to take in that she almost fails to notice the soft, wordless music coming steadily over the intercom.

Ben is standing beside the table, hands folded in front of him. He, like her, has changed into something more regal, though not so much of a change from his norm as her dress is from hers. The sleek black tunic, trimmed in silver like her gown, tantalizes her to touch, and the slacks are rather fantastically tight around his thighs. She must force herself to look back up at his face when he speaks. "You wanted to see more of the city. We can't risk it, but I tried to recreate my mother's favorite restaurant to the best of my memory. Xiono ordered the food." He gestures her to one of the seats and waits until she accepts it before taking his own across from her.

Rey is torn between staring at the covered platters with their enticing smells or gazing upward to admire the chandelier. "You and Kaz did all this?"

"And Beebee-Ate," Ben corrects. Rey isn't sure why it makes her laugh.

"It's amazing. I don't..."

"The flower is for your collection, a native of Chandrila. And here." There is a bottle of yellow-white liquid on the makeshift table. He fills two glasses with it and passes one to her. The scent of alcohol is present, but gentled by something floral. "It's a sweet wine they make on Naboo. I think you'll like it."

Rey is no great fan of intoxicating beverages. She had never even tried any before leaving Jakku, for what a waste it would have been to drink something in the desert that dehydrated her. She trusts Ben, however, and she wants to please him, so she takes a tentative sip. While the bite and burn of it still makes her face scrunch up, it is considerably more palatable than the cheap ales favored by the Resistance. "How did you afford all of this?"

The smile he gives her downright sly. "Funded by the First Order."

She wonders how safe that is, but surely Ben wouldn't risk the whole plan for a fancy dinner. "That was nice of them."

He is uncovering the dishes now and reaching across the table to pile her plate high with slices of red meat, roasted vegetables soaked in brown sauce, and some sort of bread stuffed with cheese and dusted with herbs. Rey had not even known before now that cheese could be baked into bread.

The next few minutes are spent in silence but for the sounds of utensils and teeth at work as Rey dedicates herself to experiencing every aspect of the meal with which she has been gifted. That, and the music which plays on and on.

"There is dessert also," Ben speaks at last when she takes a third piece of bread. The news does not slow her down, so he adds, "in case you want to save some room."

"Hmm? Oh, I'll have room." Never mind that there is barely enough room in her mouth to say the words. Ben only smiles and serves her more meat when she reaches for it.

When the time comes, she does, in fact, have room for dessert. The treat is a pastry composed of a creamy confection stuffed between layers of flaky bread and topped with red berries. Rey manages two slices and is proud of herself for the effort.

"Well..." says Ben as she sits back and basks in the bliss of a very full stomach. "I was going to ask you to dance after dinner, but you look comfortable right where you are."

At this proposal, Rey musters herself and sits up straight and bright-eyed, because there is no way she is letting him get out of it now that he's brought it up. "I don't know how to dance, but you can teach me."

"I'm tasked with teaching you quite a lot lately," he teases, but rises immediately to offer a hand.

"Well, you did seem to want to so badly." She laces the words with the same note of playfulness as she allows him to help her up.

Were it anyone else, Rey would be embarrassed by her mistakes and her clumsiness, especially with the billowy gown catching on her legs to trip her and billowing out to throw off her balance, but since it is only Ben here, and it is all his idea, she doesn't mind. It is exciting, she finds, like learning to use a new tool or weapon. It is fun like the games she was deprived of in her youth. Place this hand here, step there and _there,_ twirl out with one hand held, then in, bodies coming closer than before. Ben is good at it, at least as far as Rey with her complete lack of expertise can tell. Just as with their sparring practice, he is steady and patient and precise in how he guides her, explaining each correction in a way that leaves no need for doubt or wondering if she understands it right.

"Keep your foot flat. Yes. Arm higher. Lower. There... Don't look at your feet. Look at my eyes... You're adding an extra step on that part. Let's do it again." And just as with the sparring, he does not use their bond to make the lesson faster. He seems to enjoy the teaching as much as the end result, and Rey... well, she can't say she doesn't love the attention.

"You look beautiful," he tells her, and it is soft and full of affection, the play at formality all but gone. 

"You picked the dress," she points out with a smile.

"You always look beautiful."

It is not a word she had ever thought to associate with herself until she met him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and everything worked out fine and they lived happily ever after... Oh wait, I still haven't gotten to the part where I would have STARTED the fic if Ben had survived Ep9. Next chapter: time to complicate things.
> 
> Their dessert is inspired by strawberry Napoleon, btw.


	16. This Is The Fate You've Carved On Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've added the tags "dubcon" and "Dark Rey". They only just begin to show themselves in this chapter, but there will be more later.
> 
> The chapter title is from “Gravity” by Vienna Teng. Have I mentioned she’s my favorite and that half her songs are Reylo?
> 
> -

  
The protest has been going on for hours now. Rey is impatient to step in and play their role, but Ben insists on waiting, on letting the pressure build. 

It is not the sort of waiting Rey is good at.

In the end, they wait too long. The warning comes first by way of a shrill squeal from BB-8.

"A Star Destroyer?" Rey lunges across the cockpit to look at the scanner. "For a protest?! How do they even have enough to spare?"

"They want us to think they do," Ben answers darkly.

"What do we do?" There is a swelling sense of dread inside her, a tightness under her skin that makes her want to move, to run, to act—to do anything other than wait.

"We stick to the plan."

They comm Moff Roshan before the Star Destroyer has a chance to do more than look intimidating. From what Rey can make out of the staticky blue holo image, the man is thin and balding but composed, holding himself with flawless posture and somehow still managing to look at ease. He will be hard to rattle.

"Supreme Leader," the moff intones smoothly, ignoring Rey, though she stands close enough to be picked up by the holo. "What a pleasure. I heard you were back."

"Abandon the planet," Ben snaps, skipping the pleasantries. "We don't need to waste our time and resources on a lost cause."

"With all due respect, Supreme Leader, Chandrila is far from a lost cause. The rabble may have gotten feisty after that fiasco on Exegol, but we'll put them in their place. The whole galaxy can't possibly rally to stop us on every planet."

"The whole galaxy doesn't need to." The fury under Ben's words is as real as it sounds, or nearly so. "The First Order is crippled. Decimated. We cannot squander what little we have left."

At this, rather than defer to his Supreme Leader, the moff puffs himself up. "Crippled, indeed. I doubt anyone will call us that after we wipe these rioters off the face of my city." And here, even as Ben and Rey watch, he presses a button and opens a second comm channel. "Captain, fire at—"

Moff Roshan does not get to finish that sentence. His words are sealed in his throat by the squeeze of an invisible hand.

"Rey." There is a hardness in Ben's tone, not of anger anymore, but of fear.

Rey stands with her eyes locked on the holo and her hand outstretched, fingers tensed like grasping claws. The Force rages stormy inside her.

"Stop."

She ignores him.

Ben does not ask again.

  
-< >-

  
Rey has never Force choked someone before, at least to Ben's knowledge. It is easy enough to break her hold by shoving a wall of Force between her and her distant victim. The moff on the holo communicator falls to his knees, gasping. The greatest challenge of the day is to keep the act up when his heart is in his throat and all he wants to do is check on Rey.

"Obey your Supreme Leader," he snarls, "or that will be the least of what my apprentice does to you." And then, though he knows he should wait to hear the moff's answer, he switches off the comm.

Rey has backed off a pace or two, but she meets his eyes when he turns to her. "I..."

"You shouldn't have done that."

Rather than guilt, there is defiance in her eyes. "It worked."

"You don't know that yet."

"I do," she insists. "I felt his mind."

It is so, so hard to keep his voice steady. "That was the Dark Side, Rey."

 _"You've_ done it!" There is accusation in her tone now, and as much as he deserves it a million times over, it still hurts to hear it from her.

"Kylo Ren did it.” But his voice is as weak as that excuse.

She stands there at the helm of his father's ship and she stares him down and this is all wrong. He has fought her time and time again, knows her anger and her stubbornness as well as he knows her compassion, but to see it turned in defense of _this_... "You _are_ Kylo Ren," she presses, "or... or you were. And you're alright now. The Dark couldn't keep you."

"That doesn't mean you should use it by choice." The worst of it is that he sees her point. He has been resisting that same temptation since she left him behind on the ruins of the Death Star. It is a daily battle even now.

There is a sheen of wetness in her eyes when she shouts, "They would have all died!" And then, with a shaking breath, she softens. She lets the fire of her anger wane to embers before she continues, eyes shining with unfallen tears. "He was going to fire on the city. I had to stop him."

What can Ben say to that? Better the city wiped out than Rey tainted by the Dark Side, unexpendable as she is? Does he believe that? And if so, how much of it is prudency and how much is selfishness? If he were to say so to her, would it be his own Darkness talking? The thought is enough to hold his tongue. "Next time," he bites out instead, "let me be the one to do it. The Dark Side can hardly do worse to me than it already has."

She does not agree, but neither does she argue. What she does is reach past him to turn the sound back up on the holonet report, watching as the protest goes on unmolested.

Kaz is there sooner than they expect him to be, buzzing the hatch and being let in by BB-8 before Ben or Rey can do it.

"That was unbelievable!" he cheers, arms flung high. "Did you hear? The moff and the remaining First Order officers evacuated on the Star Destroyer. Nobody was even hurt! You two are amazing."

"I'm glad we could help," Rey says when there is a silence long enough to allow it. "Will Chandrila be alright now?"

"Hanna City will." Kaz shrugs. "The rest of the planet will come around pretty quick. There aren't as many First Order sympathizers here as there are on Coruscant, at least."

"Good. Ben and I will be leaving soon."

"Yeah, of course. I'm sure you're needed somewhere else.” Kaz waves a hand vaguely outward and amends, “Lots of somewhere elses."

"Will you be returning to the Colossus?" Ben asks, aiming for polite small talk.

"Oh, definitely. I can't wait to tell everyone about this. Uh..." He changes his tone at the look Ben shoots him," But not the part where you're double-crossing the First Order, obviously."

"Obviously."

A nervous laugh colors his farewell. "I'll see you around, maybe."

"It was nice to meet you, Kaz." Rey is better at friendly goodbyes than Ben is, and BB-8 shows them both up by rolling in dizzy circles around Kazuda's feet, bombarding him with a cacophony of beeps.

"Yes, of course I'll tell SeeBee... Yes, I'll stay in touch... No, I won't forget you—Argh! That was my toe!"

The silence that falls after Kazuda steps out and the hatch closes behind him is not the peaceful sort they had enjoyed during their wait.

Rey seems to feel it too. "We'd better head back to Ajan Kloss and see what Poe needs us to do next."

"We could wait for him to ask," Ben tries, but he knows as he says it that she won’t play along.

"We can end this faster than anyone. More people will die if we don't."

Ben sighs. "Do you want to fly this time?"

"Sure." And she doesn’t look at him as he follows her back to the cockpit.

-

The taste of tension in the air lingers, but Ben is used to tension. Old coping mechanisms are easy enough to fall back into and he broods the whole way back. It makes it worse that Rey is distant and as lost in thought as he is.

When they return, Poe barely acknowledges their success. "Right, your next assignment is in the Fondor system. We have a report of First Order ships gathering there. It may be the location of their fleet."

"Fondor was home to an old Imperial ship yard," Ben muses. "But none of the data I stole mentioned it."

"Maybe they used a code name."

"Or maybe it's a trap."

"Well," says Poe, "then it'll be a good thing I'm sending you."

"What do you want us to do if it’s not?" Rey asks, and the words have a bite to them.

"Destroy them," is Poe's answer. "Or destroy their leaders. Their ships. Whatever you can. Do as much damage as you can."

"Isn't Finn rehabilitating the Stormtroopers?" Rey protests. "Shouldn't we be trying to keep them alive?"

The look on Poe's face is... complicated, and the feelings he projects are in a turmoil to match. "Protecting the galaxy is more important," he tells her at last. "We've already saved who we can."

-

It does not sit well with Rey. Ben hardly needs a Force bond to know that much. She doesn't talk to him about it, though, and he cannot think of what to say that might help. He admires Finn for what the former Stormtrooper is doing—under his own circumstances, how could he not?—but he understands Poe's point as well. Their priority is to end the First Order for good, and if Rey's actions on Chandrila are any indication, they may not have much time left to do it before the fight destroys them.

Or perhaps he is being paranoid.

As Ben is making pre-flight checks, mostly for the purpose of stalling their departure, he is interrupted by the sound of boots tromping through the dirt and Poe's voice accompanying them. "Where's Rey?"

Ben takes an extra few seconds to stare at landing gear before he turns around, just to infuriate the man. "She's meditating."

Poe makes it clear with a look that he couldn't care less. "Where?" 

"Main hold."

With the information he needs, it is as if, to Poe, Ben ceases to exist. The Resistance General's turns on his heels and stomps up the ramp into the ship without another glance, much less a farewell.

Ben should let him go. Rey can handle this. He knows that. Ben should be the better man here. Poe's disdain is wholly deserved, after all.

But Ben is only human, and if he is perfectly, humbly honest with himself, he has missed having someone to annoy. Dameron isn’t Hux, but… as casually as he can, he follows.

It is almost too easy to make out Poe's words from the corridor. He is loud enough that Ben half-suspects he _wants_ to be overheard.

"I still don't know what to think, Rey. You brought Kylo Ren to our doorstep."

"No, I brought Ben Solo." Rey’s voice is firm, but calm.

"He tortured me. He tortured _you_. He nearly killed Finn. That doesn't just go away. How can you ask us to trust him?"

"He's changed. He saved me over and over again."

"Well sure," and here Poe sounds especially bitter. "He loves you."

"Yes, he does, so trust him."

There is a pause here, and then Poe says, softer now so that Ben must strain to hear, "I can't... but Finn does. I think he's making a mistake, but he won't leave me alone about it."

"Why didn't you say any of this when I first brought him here?"

"Because I needed you to get the job done."

"You still need do," Rey says. "And we're leaving soon, so if there's nothing else, I'd like to get back to work."

"Just be careful, Rey." And without waiting for her answer, Poe turns and tromps out, the sound of his footsteps once again giving away his movements before he appears. His only reaction to seeing Ben there is a frown as he passes him by.

-

It seems at first that the trip to Fondor will be spent in the same tense silence that enveloped them on the way back from Chandrila, but when the course is locked and Ben has only to sit in his father's seat and keep one eye on the obsolete display screens, Rey comes to him and she’s all wound up with a different kind of tension. Mentally she is walled off still and it is torment enough to make him regret every time he has done the same to her. To be locked away from half of one's soul is no small matter, but while she does not relent, she finds other ways to distract him from the discomfort.

She comes to him wanting, needy, with doubt in her eyes, if not guilt. She comes to him with hungry lips and frantic hands, straddling him where he sits and devouring him with a kiss. She denies him when he pushes at the knotted off point of their bond. She keeps him at bay even as she lets him in, stripping off only what clothes are necessary and doing no more in her haste than yanking his pants open and pulling them far enough down to free him. He isn't ready yet, but her mouth is on him before he can think and she has the issue corrected so quickly it leaves him dizzy. _Rey,_ he thinks at her, _Slow down,_ but her mental walls are impenetrable and when he opens his mouth to speak aloud, she steals his breath with another kiss. He gives up after that second attempt, tellings himself that they will talk about it later. For now, he will give Rey anything and everything she needs. 

-

Within a few hours they are nearing the Fondor system and the mood, despite the sex, has not lost its disharmony. Neither has Ben talked to Rey as he had promised himself he would. When it's all over, perhaps. When the First Order is gone, it will all be different, surely. They can find somewhere quiet, or go back to Ahch-To even, find a gentle way to live, and Rey will never again have a reason to flirt with the Dark Side.

They come out of hyperspace with Rey's hands on the scanner control and his ready to turn them around or begin evasive maneuvers at a moment's notice. The first step goes according to plan. They stay just long enough to let the scanners do a sweep of the system and then they are gone, too fast for the enemy to mobilize and attack, if the enemy is present at all. The readings, when they check, say yes, or seem to, but...

"There's something off here," Ben says, and dials from the scan showing ships to the one showing signs of life. 

"We know they're operating with a skeleton crew," Rey reminds him.

"This isn't even enough for that."

"One of the planets is inhabited. They could be down there."

Ben shakes his head. "The First Order doesn't leave its ships without enough crew to function in an emergency." And yet, if they just plain didn't have enough people, and if for some reason they needed to be on the ground...

"We can't be sure it's a trap,” Rey argues. “We need to go back and investigate."

He hates that she's right, but even if it is a trap or a diversion, going back is the surest way to find out, and they are better equipped for the job than anyone else in the Resistance. Still, as he enters the coordinates for the return jump into enemy territory, he can't help but to put his doubt into words. "I've got a bad feeling about this."


	17. Night Painted In Neon, I've Rebels To Lean On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s another short-ish chapter to set us up for the part 1 climax, which I think is going to end up being split into two chapters. (I’m rather proud of the chapter titles I’ve picked out for them)
> 
> Also, yes, I’ve completely given up on posting on a specific day and all that, but who is even still reading this fic as it updates? (it’s fine, I’m probly gonna do another full edit of part 1 and then get a proper outline of part 2 done before I start it, so it’s really better not to have too many readers yet. XD)
> 
> This chapter’s title is from “Rebels” by Coopertheband
> 
> -

The Millennium Falcon returns near but not quite to the same spot it has just fled from, meaning to avoid any scouts who might have picked it up on a scan and come to take a closer look. 

Instead it blunders right them.

There are six crafts in total, and all are tiny—too small even to hold a pilot. 

"Droids?" Rey sounds surprised.

"They're not wasting resources," Ben surmises.

"I'll take them out." 

She is already heading for the laser turrets before he can speak, but she pauses to listen when he calls, "Wait. See if you can disable one without destroying it. We might be able to get some information out of it."

Rey nods her head sharply and goes. Ben turns his focus on keeping them alive.

Outflying droids is easier than organic pilots in some ways and harder in others. Their programmed responses are more predictable, but they are also less likely to make mistakes. The Falcon's shields take a beating before he finds their rhythm, but he manages to keep each shot well away from Rey's turret.

... Too well away, it turns out.

"I can't hit them if you don't point me at them!" she yells over the comm system.

"Sorry." He does his best to open up a few shots for her, but it’s hard… almost physically hard to place her in the line of fire by choice. Maybe next time he will let her fly and _he_ can do the shooting.

Rey takes two of the droids out in quick succession, and would have had a third if not for a blast from behind them that shakes the Falcon badly enough to throw off her aim. "That wasn't a droid!"

She's right. Ben gets a good look at the ship as it whizzes past the cockpit half a second after Rey's warning. It's a TIE, but not of a model he has seen in action before. It had still been in development a mere few weeks ago when he defected, and not only that, but the First Order's engineers had been developing it at his own request. What he had asked of them was a hybrid with the speed and power of his Silencer and the defensive capabilities of the old TIE Defender. The ship out there now would have been _his_ , had events gone ever so slightly differently. He might have fought Rey in it. Do they know he is here and that he is no longer on their side? If so, how long have they known? Was he being strung along, or was this simply a coup? They wouldn't waste such a ship on just anyone, surely, unless they had nothing else at all. "That thing has shields," he cautions. "It will take more than one hit."

"Not if I hit it hard enough. Keep them off us for a minute."

He wishes she would open up and let him know her plan. He almost asks about it aloud, but they are out of time for conversation.

The next several seconds stretch like long minutes and there is only the fight. Laser fire comes at him from five ever-changing directions and he must narrow himself down to the singular purpose of avoiding it. He is his hands on the yoke. He is his eyes that move from display screen to viewport and back. He is the tug of the Force at the back of his mind that warns him where each shot will land. He is his lungs that keep breathing, and he is his need to keep Rey alive. Up and down, left and right, yaw and pitch. Upside-down then so that one becomes the other, for up and down are whatever one wants them to be when one is piloting a spacecraft.

The Falcon is big compared to the fighters and makes a clunky disc of a target, but it is still the fastest ship in the galaxy and as agile as any freighter of its size can be. For the span of those long, long seconds, Ben dodges every shot.

It is quite a sudden thing when the TIE shuts down, going dark and dead in the water. Ben has not done a thing to it, so this must be Rey's work.

The droid fighters still zip around them, but all at once Rey is firing again, and she holds nothing back. Another droid goes, and another... and then they get desperate.

"Brace yourself!" He has barely enough time to yell before one of the remaining two droid fighters slams itself into their underside, frightfully close to the little bubble of transparisteel that separates Rey from the vacuum of space. The last one does the same to their engines. The impact rattles Ben's teeth and he waits for the heat of an explosion to reach him or for the ship to simply disintegrate around him. When neither happens and his readings don’t suggest they will, he runs to check on Rey.

She has climbed out of the gunner's seat when he reaches her and is peering back down into it. "They broke my laser. Again. I'm getting really tired of that."

"Come on," he presses. "We need to get moving."

"Right.” She brushes her hands together as if dusting away her disappointment. “Time to interrogate that TIE pilot." And she sounds a little more gleeful at the prospect than she probably should.

It is more difficult even than it should be to line up their docking hatch with the one at the top of the TIE. It might have been impossible if not for a helpful nudge of the Force. Something is definitely wrong with their steering. 

They manage it, though, after several frustrating tries, and as soon as they are locked, Rey hurries to bring in their captive.

"Be careful," Ben can't help but say as he stretches his legs in a long stride to keep up with her jog. "He'll be ready for you."

"No he won't."

And she's right again. When she opens their hatch and forces open the TIE's, its pilot is unconscious inside the darkened cockpit. 

"You knocked him out and disabled his ship with the Force... while I was flying evasive maneuvers?" Will she never cease to amaze him? "I don't think I could have done that."

Rey flashes him a ferocious grin over her shoulder. "I'm getting good at this."

  
-< >-

  
Rey has to squeeze into the cramped TIE fighter herself in order to unfasten the pilot from his safety harness and push him while Ben pulls to get him through the narrow hatch and into the Falcon. He falls rather hard when their ship's gravity takes hold, but she doesn't think he has damaged himself too badly to give them the information they need. He is, after all, wearing a helmet.

Either way, she’s glad that he remains deeply unconscious, because it hardly makes an intimidating sight the way she has to fuss and fiddles with his suit before she finds his blaster, his personal communicator, and the latch to remove his helmet. "We need to tie him up," she tells Ben. "Get the bonding tape." 

Ben goes and Rey spares a moment to study the face of her prisoner. He looks young, barely more than a boy, really, but that should not surprise her as much as it does with the First Order being so short on personnel. His hair is blond and his skin is freckled. She wonders where he was born, if he remembers his family or if he was taken too soon. She wonders if he has a name or only a number. Then Ben comes back and she puts her sympathy away. There is a job to be done.

Once bound at wrists and ankles and propped against the hull of their empty training room, out of sight of anything that might tempt him to try to fight or escape, Rey wakes him. It proves harder than putting him to sleep had been—one of the tricks she had picked up from Ben's mind at some point in their sordid history—but by deconstructing and reversing the technique, she manages to bring him around.

The young First Order pilot wakes defiant, ready to fight, and then his eyes land on Ben and go wide. "Supreme Leader," he gasps, probably on reflex, because he snaps his jaw shut right after.

"Where is the First Order's main fleet?" Rey snarls, meaning to keep him off balance. It comes out in such a beastly manner that Ben looks at her strangely.

The pilot ignores her and keeps his stare on Ben, so Ben offers him a word of encouragement. "Answer the question."

"If you don't know," the boy pronounces slowly, "then you're not supposed to know."

"I am your Supreme Leader." The reminder is voiced more gently than it ought to be, in Rey's opinion.

"You're... You're not in charge anymore."

So that's how it is. The First Order may or may not know about his double-cross, but they are no longer keen on doing the bidding of Kylo Ren. Rey waves her hand and the boy's head slams back against the wall. "We are as far as you're concerned. You're not getting out of here until you answer us." And then he would be going straight to wherever it is Finn keeps the captured Stormtroopers, of course.

"You might as well kill me then," the boy declares proudly. "I won't talk."

Well, thinks Rey, if that is how it's going to be, then what’s the point of wasting time? "Fine. You won't have to." And without anymore warning than that, she _dives_ into him—into his mind, his conscious, his being. She knows she has to move fast or Ben will try to stop her, so she does not dawdle, and she is not gentle. She rips the information out of him like she’s biting off a chunk of meat, and leaves him screaming as brokenly as all of those who screamed when the First Order tore apart their lives and families.

Ben takes her by the shoulders and manhandles her away from the boy. "Stop it! Rey..." and then he is at a loss for words. All he can do is stare at her with wounded eyes that would at another time have made her ache with empathy but now only serve to frustrate her.

"I got what we need," she tells him. "They're at Jakku."

-

They leave the pilot bound where he is and Rey knocks him out again for good measure. Ben does not say a word about it, but he looks like he's fuming. The voice in her head—that voice that is her own but speaks without her conscious bidding—tells her that she did the right thing. She is justified, just as she was on Chandrila. Her actions are saving lives. 

She tries her best to believe it.

The first thing they do once their prisoner is locked away securely is to call the Resistance. Rose Tico answers.

"Fondor was a decoy," Rey says without preamble. "The First Order is in the Jakku system."

"Jakku," Rose echoes. "Got it. You two meet us back at base. Poe will want to coordinate with our allies before we make a move."

"Just as well, "Ben murmurs from over Rey's shoulder. "The Falcon's not up for another fight."

"Bring her in," Rose advises, and she offers a kind smile to both of them. "We'll see what we can do."

-

They take the prisoner back to Ajan Kloss and they tow his TIE fighter too. Whether it ends up being used for infiltration or for scrap, the ship is as valuable a prize as its pilot. Poe is certainly glad to see it, affording Rey a smile for the first time in a while, though it is sharp and weary.

"The Falcon's damaged," she tells him, and the smile goes away. "I don't think we can get the parts and get it fixed in time."

"We have other ships," Poe says, and that is that.

Indeed, more ships come in throughout the day. The call had been put out as soon as Rey and Ben made their report and while they have not rallied the galaxy to such an extent as they did on Exegol, neither are they left on their own.

The Colossus is the most impressive arrival, shining in low orbit like a bright star. Rey can imagine Kazuda's enthusiastic voice as he inspires his friends with the tale of Chandrila. Accompanying the enormous ship are several silvery vessels which she recognizes from her flight simulators as of Naboo design.

Finn and Jannah come too, along with a squad of faces Rey vaguely recognizes. Some are Jannah's people from Kef Bir. The others... she swears they are the faces of the first Stormtroopers Finn took in, though surely it is too soon to see such a turn… Unless there were some who were just as ready to defy their programming as Finn was, and Jannah. And Ben.

Ben is still brooding, and she does feel sorry on some level, now that she has the time to miss his smiles. Still, she is certain she made the right decision. War is harsh. Cruelty, at times, is necessary. She won't become another Kylo Ren just because she dipped her toes in the Dark Side once or twice. The Jedi may have thought it worked that way, but she has already seen the proof that they were wrong. 

It won't matter soon enough in any case, she tells herself. The war will be over and she will never have to do it again. Ben will see that she was right.

-

It is a strange thing to fly away while the Falcon lays unattended behind them. The replacement they’ve been assigned to is a small personal cruiser modded with weapons and battle-grade shields. It is newer, cleaner, and a smoother ride, but sitting in the unfamiliar pilot's seat, all Rey feels is an ache of homesickness.

Ben copilots beside her and there is a coldness in the air between them, as well as a longing that can't quite penetrate it. He keeps his eyes forward, his attention on the task ahead. He is as eager as she is to see this finally over and done with.

It is something, at least, to fly with him in formation with the Resistance fleet. It is a reminder of the victories they have already won.

More ships exit hyperspace with them than had departed from Ajan Kloss. Poe's coordination with their allies must have been precise. Some of the new arrivals are ships Rey recognizes and some are not. There are also a few she expected to see who have not come, but while they are a ragtag and mismatched force as always, the First Order is now hardly better off.

"This is it," Rey says, and she feels the prophecy in her words as she speaks them. "This is their last stand."

Ben's lips tighten into something not quite a smile. "I feel it too."

"Hear that, folks?" This is Poe over the comm, bright and fierce. "Our Jedi says we've got one more fight and then we're finished. Let's make it a quick one."

"Time to save the galaxy," Rose says, and Finn, who is riding with her, chuckles nervously, strung tight with nerves in the face of impending battle.

"For Leia," Someone says.

"Yeah, for the General!"

"For Snap!"

"For Paige."

"For my family!" and "For my planet!" the cries go on.

"For my parents," Rey answers, and she doesn’t care that it was not the First Order itself which destroyed them. The sentiment still counts.

Beside her, Ben adds quietly, "For mine."


	18. All I Wanted Was A Piece Of The Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I needed a hiatus.  
> Seriously, I did warn you guys I struggle with this.  
> Anyway, here’s another double update for your patience, and the end of part 1!  
> ….Which means there’s going to be another long delay while I reread/possibly do a final edit on everything I’ve written so far and then try to get a head start on part 2.  
> Note that I won’t be making a separate fic for part 2. It will be posted here, starting on chapter 20.
> 
> Chapter title from “Original Sin” by Meat Loaf (my fave is the Pandora’s Box version, though)
> 
> -

Three Star Destroyers are all that remain of the First Order's heavy battleships. In the weeks since Exegol, the Resistance and Lando’s galactic militia have dealt with the rest. These last three are surrounded by a fleet of smaller vessels, however, not only TIEs but midsized fighters and light battle cruisers. Like the Resistance, the First Order has had to adapt. Rather than holding position at a single point in space, they have locked themselves to the rotation of the planet below. It is only as she gets closer that Rey realizes this is more than just an attempt to defend their remaining ships. 

"They're guarding something." It comes to her suddenly, sharply. "On the ground. We need to get down there."

"We'll go down once we've beaten them," Ben says.

Rey tries. She really does. She stays in the pilot's seat at Ben's request. She flies with the fleet as they move in on the enemy. She tries with everything she has to set aside the nagging, burning call from the planet below. For a little while, she almost succeeds.

"Fighters," Poe's voice rings out over the comm channel, "you're going to thin those TIEs out. Racers, give 'em something to chase. Everybody else, follow my lead and take out their mid-sized ships. Then we'll disable those Star Destroyers. Remember, we want live prisoners if we can help it, but don't get killed trying to save the enemy. Racers and fighters, engage on my signal... Now."

As if released from a pulled-taught string, the starfighters burst away from the slower-moving fleet, breaking off into their separate squadrons. Accompanying them are the racers of the Colossus, flying without formation but with unmatched precision and grace. Rey wonders which ship Kazuda flies.

The TIE's rise to meet them, but already Rey spots an advantage the Resistance did not have before. The First Order has been kicked out of its shipyards and denied the abundant resources it relied on. Where once there would have been great swarms of the cheap, expendable TIE fighters, now their numbers are visibly sparser. They still outnumber the Resistance's single-person fighters, but they are also more fragile. It will be a fair fight.

As the TIEs are led on their merry, fatal chase, it is the rest of the fleet's turn to move.

"Shields forward," orders Poe. "Concentrate fire on one target at a time. We need to take their numbers down as fast as we can."

Their flagship, the Tantive IV, accelerates and ascends to put its canons over the level where most of the small ships are dogfighting. The old corvette has seen its share of war already, or so Leia liked to tell them, but is has never been as heavily equipped for battle as it is now. This is largely thanks to Jannah's people, who had donated the lion's share of tech and weaponry from their stolen stash on Kef Bir. Rey wishes that Leia were here to see it. Then, on second thought, she thinks the necessity of it might have made her sad.

Poe picks their target, the Tantive firing on the nearest mid-sized First Order cruiser, and that is Rey's cue to join in.

Ben mans the guns while she flies, but on this borrowed ship the division is optional. The turret controls are wired into the cockpit and easy for the pilot to access, not unlike a single-person fighter's would be. The only advantage of splitting the jobs is that one person does not have to concentrate on both. Despite this convenience, she still can't help longing for the familiarity of the Millennium Falcon.

A TIE fighter explodes in front of them and Rey takes the ship in a leaping arc over the cloud of debris, Ben firing off a shot at the Tantive's target as soon as the way is clear. The enemy cruiser shudders and begins to lull sideways, its shields overwhelmed by the concentration of fire. As it sinks slowly, not quite able to fight Jakku's gravity any longer, the Star Destroyer behind it returns fire.

Star Destroyers hit hard, but the Resistance has the shield strength to hold them off... for a while. The first volley evaporates on the Tantive's bow. Ben gives the listing cruiser another hit for good measure and Rey follows the Tantive's lead to the next target.

It is as they dive to avoid laser fire and the dusty horizon of Jakku fills their viewscreen that the pull she has felt all this time reasserts itself with a burst of renewed strength. All at once, all of her instincts are screaming at her as loud as the Force when it warns her of incoming danger. "We need to get down there!"

"We're a little busy right now." But then he hesitates. "Why?"

"I don't know, I just... I have to. It's calling me."

Ben fires another shot before answering, voice tight. "That's not always a good thing."

"What if there's something down there that will help us win? Or help them if we don't stop it?"

"Is that what you feel?"

"No, but..." She trails off, trying to focus on steering them past another fresh cluster of rubble. 

"If they had something like that, they'd have used it by now. Let's finish this and we can go down with back-up. If they do have something down there..." he pauses to fire again, tensing his jaw with each blast. "... It is sure to be guarded."

Jakku _pulls_ and she hates that he won't listen to her. She knows he is trying to be careful, trying to protect her from the thing that hurt him so badly, but they can't afford that kind of cowardice here in this final battle. The painful insistence of the summons tells her that much. 

She could share it with him across the bond, but... no. It is hard enough to keep it as tightly shut as it is, and he should be trusting her without it. The fact that he doesn't... That fact hurts enough to give her pause. "Luke would tell me to trust the Force," she mutters. Then, with that as her only warning, she slides out of the pilot's seat and takes off running, leaving Ben to scramble for the controls as he shouts her name and pounds uselessly at the wall she has built between their minds. 

She must go to Jakku now, and there is a way she can do it without Ben trying to stop her and without even depriving the Resistance of a battleship. She can do all this because the ship they’ve borrowed has something the Millennium Falcon lost long before it ever came into her hands—this ship has a landing shuttle.

  
-< >-

  
Ben gets control of the ship in time to dodge most of the fire from a particularly bold TIE. A quick counter attack takes care of that threat, buying him another few seconds to freak out over Rey's sudden departure.

An indicator on the control panel to his right lights up, informing him that the landing shuttle is in the process of disengaging. "Rey!" he yells into the intercom, and _Come back!_ into the Dyad bond, but either she ignores him or she does not hear at all.

With such perfectly wretched timing that he almost suspects she planned it that way, the space around him is suddenly full of whizzing starfighters and it is all he can do to keep his ship and himself from being torn apart. He has time only to glance at the radar blip of the innocuous little shuttle as it descends unbothered into the yellow atmosphere.

  
-< >-

  
It is easy enough to find the location of whatever it is the First Order has put its last dying efforts into guarding. A closer look has her rethinking her assumption, however. There is certainly an element of guarding, yes, because like any jealous lord over his riches—like Unkar Plutt over his portions, she thinks—that is what the First Order does. There are, however, other more specific words to describe what they are doing. Rey would call it scavenging. Someone else might call it exploring, or excavating.

She lands the shuttle well away from the digsite. She knows how to mask her flightpath in the glare of the sun. She knows how to tuck her little shuttle behind an outcropping so that the play of shadow and sand and wind will hide it. She knows how to move swiftly over the dunes without burning too much energy and how not to make the sand slide loose under her feet when she crests a dune. She has spent most of her life learning these skills. Even without the Force, she can do this.

At first glance, the excavation site reminds her of their original base on Ajann Kloss after it was taken by the First Order took. The same boxy troop transports ring the area in a sloppy suggestion of a semi-circle. There are more guards here, though. A lot of guards. It reaffirms Rey's sense that the place is important, especially as short-handed as the First Order is.

While the transports form half of a circle, the other half is made of red-brown stone, jutting upward from the sand in a jagged, crooked wall, and there at its midpoint is an open door. As Rey creeps closer, slithering under one of the transports for a better look, she confirms what she thought she had seen at a distance. The door is old—far more so than the makeshift pirate's den in the canyon cave on Ajan Kloss. This is ancient history. Sith history, if the temperament of the Force in the area is anything to go by. 

The whole place reeks with the bitter tang of Darkness.

But who left alive in the First Order would have reason to dig up Sith ruins?

Whatever they have in there or whatever they are looking for, she must get to it first. She must go now, guards or no guards. Everything inside her is telling her so.

"You don't see me," she murmurs aloud as she steps softly out into the open. "You don't see me. I am a mirage. I am a dustblow. I am a ray of light. You don't see me." Repeating this chant again and then again, she walks across the barren expanse and through the ancient stone doorway without a single faceless guard turning to look her way.

The first convenience is that the excavators have set up lights to show the way through the subterranean halls. The second is that there don't appear to be any guards inside. Either they have been ordered to keep their distance, she guesses, or they are afraid.

Whatever the cause, it makes her job easier. She can spare the attention to fully take in her surroundings. Upon doing so, she puzzles over how, given the length of her stay on Jakku, she has never heard of this place before. The ruin is a series of square chambers descending from one to the next, joined by short flights of stairs, five steps each. They do not form a straight line between more than two or three rooms before making her turn left or right to find the next doorway. The interior of each is empty save for the new addition of the lights. If anything worth scavenging had been here once, it is gone now. Still, there is much to admire. The intricately carved wall are a gruesome treasure all their own. Every relief is different, and the images tell a story, or perhaps several separate stories. The grand and bloody accomplishments of the Sith Order, if she has to guess. Other than Palpatine and Darth Vader—Anakin Skywalker—she has never heard the names of individual Sith, nor much about them except that they were wicked and wholly corrupted by the Dark Side of the Force. It is strange to think that they were people just like that young First Order pilot she had captured—just like Ben and Finn and Jannah. People who chose a cruel path, or who were dragged down it without a choice in the matter. She could have been one of them had the sandstorm winds of fate blown differently… had Snoke or Palpatine found her, or had Ben not come to save her on Exegol when he did. She should look at the depictions of cruelty on the walls around her and see monsters, but all she sees are people.

It is her nature to memorize new surroundings as she traverses them. Getting lost in the wreckage of a Star Destroyer, after all, could have been a death sentence. Even as ingrained as the habit is, however, she loses count of how many near-identical rooms she has passed through. It is the endless carvings distracting her with their tales of bloodshed, or it is the stale underground air fogging her mind. It is more than a small favor, then, that there seem to be no branching paths. Whatever challenges she may meet on the return trip, finding her way to the exit will not be one of them.

At last she passes through a doorway and down another set of five steps and finds herself in a very different room. This one, like all the rest, is empty, but the walls are paneled in metal and the floor is discolored in patterns that suggest large equipment has recently been stored here. There is yet another doorway ahead and the light from it shines with an odd quality, dimmer and more crimson than the glaring white worklights which have guided her so far.

There is a sound, also. 

At first Rey thinks it is flowing water, rare as that is on Jakku. Shortly, though, she recognizes her mistake. The sound coming from the next room is the steady, fluid murmur of a voice.

  
-< >-

  
Ben had flown his best—which was, in his not so humble opinion, better than anyone, despite the distraction of his soulmate running headfirst and alone into danger. Still, the odds had turned against him and his borrowed ship had taken one too many hits. He had just barely managed to slide into the Tantive IV's docking bay before his cockpit depressurized. His misfortune did not put him out of action for long, however, as when he reported to the bridge and asked Poe to give him another task, Finn stepped in and recruited him to the boarding party. 

"We just knocked out power on their command ship, and we've got the other big one pinned down." The third Destroyer had already fallen to break upon the dunes of Jakku, so much fresh meat for the scavengers. "Their new general has nowhere to go, so we're going to go find out what happens if we take her hostage."

Ben knows what would have happened if such a situation had arisen during his reign. Hux would have left him to die and taken over. Maybe, though, here at the last stand of the First Order, things will be different. 

Maybe.

"You'll have an easier time fighting your way through that ship with me there."

Finn smiles the hard smile of a soldier with victory in sight. "Exactly."

-

The Star Destroyer is pitch dark when the droid accompanying their boarding shuttle slices the lock, but they have come prepared. Outshining the glow of Ben's lightsaber are several lanterns, both handheld and attached to helmets.

On the first level, they meet no resistance. No doubt the crew has been called away from unnecessary posts so as not to be picked off too easily. Then they come to a maintenance shaft and a pair of ladders, because along with everything else, the elevators are not working, and all of them must climb two by two, clipping the handheld lights to belts until they reach the top. That, of course, is when the shooting starts, just as Ben and a handful of others have made it out of the shaft but the majority are still climbing.

The Force sings of danger and Ben brings his lightsaber up just in time, side-stepping into the center of the corridor to best act as a shield for those coming up behind him. Of the shots that get past him, one connects, announced by a shout of pain, but there is no thump nor clatter of a body falling, so he guesses it was not serious. Within a moment, the Resistance soldiers behind him have organized and begun firing back, and Ben advances with them to make room for the rest of their party. Having a lightsaber at the front makes all the difference. Between the shots he deflects and those fired from behind him, it is not so long before the enemy barrage dies away to nothing.

On they go with Finn at the lead and Ben beside him, saber lit, ready to become their shield again when next it’s needed.

"We're heading for the bridge," he observes, pushing down the countless memories of walking corridors identical to this one.

"We're after Sloane, remember?"

"She might not be there anymore." He hadn't known her well enough to judge whether or not she was the sort to go down with her ship. Such wasteful self-sacrifice had not been heavily encouraged in the First Order, though there were some who still clung to that old-fashioned concept of honor.

"We're going to check just to be sure," Finn says, and he’s in charge, so Ben doesn't push the matter.

The next wave of Stormtroopers is bigger, and they are also smarter. They come at the them from three sides, hidden in the darkness where another corridor intersects with theirs. Ben has already passed the intersection when the firing starts. He cannot return without leaving the head of the party unguarded. 

This time the bodies do fall.

"Fall back!" yells Finn. "Clear that corridor! Let them come to you!"

After some brief confusion and another couple of deaths, those in the intersection fall back to the hallway they came from while those already past it stay where they are. Now there is only the blasterfire from in front of them to contend with and Ben can do his job properly.

"I really need to get one of those," Finn comments into the cacophony.

"I'll show you how to make one," Ben offers before he can think better of it. 

"Can't wait!" is the shouted response, and perhaps it is only the comradery necessitated by battle, but Ben feels something there, something like forgiveness, and more than that… something like hope for the future.

The shots from up ahead dwindle quickly enough, but half of their force is trapped behind the perpendicular corridor, unable to cross without being mowed down from both sides. Ben takes a deep breath, relaxes his muscles on the exhale, checking for cramps or tightness that might slow him down. Then he stalks back toward the crossroad.

"Wait," says Finn. "What are you doing?"

"Clearing the way."

"You can't... You know what?" Finn changes his mind. "Okay. Just don't get shot. Rey would kill me."

Given the way she's been acting lately, that might not be much of an exaggeration. "Don't worry about me," Ben answers, and catches himself almost smiling at the irony of saying those words to this man. Hope for the future indeed—provided he doesn't die in the next few seconds, of course.

There is a moment of hesitation from the enemy when Ben first steps into their line of fire. Perhaps they recognize him, or perhaps they are simply confused as to why one solitary man would stand before them unafraid. Ben, on the other hand, does not hesitate. It is hard to make out their exact formation or their numbers in the dark, but he can sense their life energy, so that is what he latches onto, reaching out and yanking one of the troopers forward through the air. By the time the blaster bolts begin to fly, he has an armored meatshield levitating on one side while his saber bounces back shots from the other. Now a few of the Resistance fighters join back in, aiming quickly around corners while the troopers are focused on Ben. 

He has always felt closest to the Force while in combat. It guides him and it gives itself to him. As long as he keeps moving, as long as his concentration is unbroken, as long as he has a lightsaber in his hand, he is invincible.

When the weaponfire from the righthand corridor goes silent, he charges the left. Bodies in white armor shells fall, often in multiple pieces, their cut edges charred black and smoking. So caught up is he in the dance of death that he only barely manages to stop his saber swing when two of the last surviving Stormtroopers throw down their blasters and fling their hands in the air.

"Supreme... K-Kylo Ren..." The nearest one stutters as soon as he sees his chance. "We surrender! We wanna join you and... and FN2187!"

Pointing his lightsaber at the second Trooper's throat gets a silent but emphatic nod of agreement. 

Ben lowers his blade, but does not deactivate it. "My name is Ben Solo, not Kylo Ren."

"And mine's Finn." On cue, Finn has stepped around the corner to join them, his blaster with him but his hand off the trigger. It does not escape Ben's notice that the Resistance fighters behind him keep their weapons trained around the corner, however. "What's yours?"

"KD924, but my... my friends call me Kade. And this is SM2882." He risks dropping one hand from above his head to pat his partner on the shoulder.

"No other name?" Finn asks, but the second man shakes his head. "Alright Kade, SM2882, is General Sloane on the bridge?"

"Yes, Sir," says Kade. "We were ordered to kill you before you got there."

"Are there more ambushes ahead?"

"One more that I know of, yes." His answers come with more confidence the longer he talks. 

"Think you can get them to stand down?"

Kade glances to his friend, and though his face is masked, something in his posture speaks of tenderness. When he faces Finn and Ben again, he is standing a little taller. "I can try."

Finn nods. He looks like he wants to do more. "Take point, then. And thanks, Kade. We're glad to have you."


	19. All I Needed Was A Spot In The Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update today, so if you've just seen the update notification and come here, hop back a chapter!
> 
> Chapter title from Original Sin by Meat Loaf (again)
> 
> -

As the Resistance soldiers approach the next ambush point, Kade signals a halt. He and his partner go on alone, walking with purpose, only visible in the dark by the beams of illumination projected from devices on their wrists. The rest of the party has turned their lights off.

The two defected Stormtroopers go quite some distance ahead before they are challenged—far enough that Ben cannot quite make out the words spoken. As the discussion goes on, the rebels around him begin to shift nervously, though they are careful to stay quiet about it.

Then, with all the suddenness of a lightning strike, someone shines a powerful light down the corridor. 

Rebels dive down and to the sides and Ben ignites his saber. Blaster bolts fly... but not every shot is aimed their way.

  
-< >-

  
Rey is slow to cross the threshold into the red-lit chamber, but it is the hesitance born of well-used survival instincts more than of actual fear. She has willingly walked into worse things. Probably.

Where the rooms before it were small, this is a space so wide that standing in it feels like being outside. It is, for the most part, as empty as the rest. The exception sits squarely in the center—a pedestal that looks to have been carved when the room itself was shaped, rising seamlessly from the red-brown Jakku stone of the floor.

Nothing sits atop the shallowly concave top of the structure, but suspended in mid air above it is a pyramid of scarlet crystal set in gold filigree. A holocron, almost definitely of Sith make. The spidery tendrils of red light dancing around it ooze that same Dark energy she has sensed throughout the place.

It comes as no surprise, then, to realize that the object is also the source of the whispering voice. More alarming is how, as she stares it down, the light from the object brightens and seems to suck itself inward, coalescing into a near-solid shape in the space between her and the pedestal. 

It is the shape of a man.

_"I knew you would come."_

The voice is only almost familiar, like meeting a stranger who looks like someone she knows. The figure's features are washed out by the light, but he stands straight and proud and he appears to be garbed in robes.

"Who are you?"

_"Why, you know me, dear. We met not very long ago."_

She tries not to let him see the shiver that runs up her spine. "I can't see you."

 _"Ah,"_ he says in that familiar-but-not voice. _"That I can fix."_ And he does, the light receding enough to let her make out gaunt cheeks and a beak of a nose. Recognition hits her at last, though he looks quite different from her memory of him, younger and more or less unmarked by the ravages of the Dark Side. Still, she knows him. Where a moment ago there was doubt, now there is no mistaking it. This is the man who created her and the man who killed her.

"You're dead."

 _"Yes."_ He sounds nothing more than amused.

"You should stay that way." She emphasizes her words with the satisfying snap-hiss of her saber blade coming to life.

Palpatine chuckles. It is a disconcertingly human sound. _"Now, Granddaughter, what do you plan to do with that?"_

The golden blade flashes through him almost before he is done talking, searing a line from shoulder to hip. It is annoying but not surprising when it has no effect on him.

 _"Such anger!"_ The ghost—if that is what he is—smiles with a leisurely sort of excitement, as if this is merely a game or an exercise. _"You will make a fine Sith."_

"Switch off." She swings at him again, as useless as before. 

_"I know what holds you back,"_ he says, and how is it, she wonders, that someone as wicked as he can sound so kind? _"That Skywalker boy. Snoke and I had such a difficult time coaxing him away from his uncle's backwards Jedi teachings. I almost gave up on him. Had I known how to find you, I would have."_

"Don't talk about Ben." She hisses the words.

 _"You feel such attachment to him, don't you?"_ The dead man muses. _"You know, of course, this isn't real love."_

"You're wrong." Why would he even say such a thing? She can make no sense of it... until he explains.

_"It is the Dyad bond. It pulls you together—not just your power and your destinies, but your emotions as well. The Force is manipulating you, child, falsifying your own feelings. What you think is love is no better than a spice dream. Don't let it enslave you."_

"You're wrong," she repeats. "You're lying." But is he? For all that she feels connected to Ben, have they not always found ways to hurt each other? From their disagreement on the Supremacy to his inability to trust and listen to her when she'd _known_ she had to get down here… After everything that brought them together, how were they still such an ill-fitting match?

 _"Even were it natural love,"_ Palpatine went on in that sympathetic croon, _"it is a battlefield romance, passionate and brief. What you feel is the joy of being alive. Of being a savior. It is a selfish feeling, is it not? A possessive feeling. He is your prize for winning. That can be a sort of love, but not the kind you want it to be. Let him go, for his sake and for yours."_

He waits for a response then, but Rey only glares. She wants to argue, to deny him, for surely he is the one trying to manipulate her, not the Force... only he has struck so soundly upon her own doubts—doubts she had been unable to find the words to describe until he spoke them for her.

 _"Young Rey, if you do not master the Force, then it will master you. You may let it pull you along wherever it chooses, or you may make your own way. You only have to see through the illusion it casts."_ Ever so gentle and inviting, the ghosts holds out a hand. _"I can teach you how."_

"Enough!" What happens next happens so quickly that, afterward, it feels as if her body had moved on its own accord. She steps forward, the saber slashes, the holocron shatters, and the image of the Sith Emperor vanishes as if it had never been.

Rey's heavy breathing and the hum of her lightsaber are the only sounds in the room now as she waits for something else to happen. When, after several long seconds, nothing does, she brings her blade down carefully on the shards of metal and crystal and melts them all into smoking shapelessness. Just to be sure.

 _He's gone for good now,_ says the voice in her head that sounds like her own. _He can't hurt you anymore._

Saber still alight, she turns and walks out, leaving the last remnant of her grandfather behind.

  
-< >-

  
One of their Stormtrooper guides is spread-eagle on the floor by the time they push their way to the ambush site—a section of the corridor that widens both to the sides and upward. The other is on his knees with a blaster pointed at his head. Ben doesn't stop to think before ripping the blaster out of its owner's hand with a tug of the Force. Hell breaks loose when he and the front line of Finn's troops cross the threshold, blaster fire raining down on them not only from the front but from above. Ben feels a shot tear the fabric of his sleeve and another singe his hair before he gets his saber up and finds an effective defense pattern. Several of Finn's people are less lucky.

The enemy stands arrayed on a catwalk, firing down on their heads. They cannot be reached until the Resistance advances farther in, and Ben cannot cover them all. For the first time it is almost a fair fight... right up until he finds an opening and brings down the whole catwalk, wrenching it in half and slamming it and the Stormtroopers upon it into the unforgiving walls to either side.

With the high ground lost, the Troopers are in disarray. They fail to recover in time as the Resistance fans out along the walls to surround them and Ben wades into their center, making himself impossible to ignore. It is over quickly after that.

Finn casts a light over the scattered dead, looking sad and drawn at the sight of the Stormtroopers as much as at that of his own people.

Kade is kneeling at the side of his fallen friend. One of the surviving rebels is there with him. Kade has removed the plate of armor that took the shot and the rebel is applying a spray-on bandage. Ben has only just begun to feel antsy about moving on when Kade hauls SM2882 up, breathing and conscious, and falls back with him into the center of the party.

There are no further obstacles until they reach the wide double-layered door to the ship's bridge. At a nod from Finn, Ben sinks his lightsaber into the durasteel, turning it molten, cutting slowly but surely through.

"I really do need one of those," Finn mutters again.

Ben only grunts.

There is a bright flurry of blaster fire as the ragged-edged piece of metal finally falls away, but they are prepared, having moved to either side to shield themselves behind the parts of the door still standing.

"It's a stalemate, Ren!" This is Niah Sloane's voice, as firm and commanding a ever. "You can't enter, I can't leave, and the power's off. Shall we stand here until we freeze to death or the ship falls out of orbit?"

"Or you could surrender," Finn suggests. "We don't want to kill you or any more of your people."

"FN2187," she acknowledges him. "You were one of the first. What will you do with me and my people if we are not to be executed?"

Ben can feel the wave of hope rising in Finn before he speaks. "We have a rehabilitation program. You can fight for us, or you can give up fighting and find a different way to live."

There is a small sound from the other side of the door. It might be laughter. "How idealistic. What if you give us blasters and one of us shoots you?"

"Well," Finn answers brightly, "it hasn't happened yet."

The grenade is small and quiet, almost invisible in the dark. Ben catches it in mid-air with the Force and sends it neatly back from whence it came. The explosion is large for such a little thing, and judging by the exclamations of alarm from those around him, no one else had noticed the weapon.

Finn takes the opening, barreling past him and into the freshly scorched bridge. The nearest of his men move to cover him immediately, forcing Ben to wait his turn before he can duck through the narrow opening he has made.

The Stormtroopers and officers who were nearest the door are dead. The rest stand or kneel with empty hands held high on display. Niah Sloane twitches her head to the side as Finn looks down at her, indicating a nearby control panel. "Inter-ship comm is there. I assume you know how to operate it?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"Turn it on, all channels."

Keeping his blaster pointed her way, Finn does.

Niah clears her throat. "All ships, this is General Sloane. Stand down and allow boarding. I repeat, all ships, stand down. The First Order surrenders."

When she says no more, Finn switches off the comm. "Thanks."

"I don't care what you do with me," Sloane tells him, and she sounds resigned rather than spiteful. "But no more of my people need to die. They deserve to live freely."

"Yeah," says Finn. "That's the idea."

-

It feels like a longer march back to the boarding shuttle than it had been from shuttle to bridge, though the opposite must be true. It feels even longer before they are once again on the Tantive IV and Ben can plead for a ride down to the planet's surface. He senses Rey still. She is alive and not in immediate danger, but her thoughts and emotions are closed off to him, as is becoming the norm.

Despite this, her life energy is a beacon to him. She is where she had told him she would be—precisely below the spot where the three Star Destroyers had initially been circling. When his shuttle touches down, he leaps from the half-lowered ramp in time to see her standing outside the ancient stone door, ablaze in the light of the sun and that of her sun-golden lightsaber, poised to strike down the last of the First Order guards. The rest lay scorched and lifeless on the ground.

"Stop!" Ben surprises himself, striding to her with an arm outstretched as if he could catch her blade barehanded. "They've surrendered!"

For a moment, he thinks she will strike anyway. For a moment, she looks as though she intends to, hard-eyed and radiating power. For a moment, he wonders if he will have to fight her again.

Blessedly, after too long a wait, she lowers her weapon, though she does not deactivate it yet. The plasma blade hums a steady warning as Ben steps between her and her almost-victim. Only then does he look away from her, down at the Stormtrooper. "The First Order is over," he repeats, more gently than he has ever spoken to one of his former soldiers. "will you come peacefully?"

"Yes, Supreme Leader." The voice under the helmet sounds feminine, rough and breathless from the fight. She does not correct herself as he pulls her up and lets her walk on her own to the shuttle. Her helmet is off and cradled in her hands by the time she ascends the boarding ramp.

Ben faces Rey. His first instinct is to go to her, to hold her, but he can’t let himself be distracted. He must confront this. She is still staring in the direction the trooper had gone, but her head snaps his way when he speaks. "You can't just leave me like that… You could have been killed."

She stands her ground. "We were in battle! I could have been killed anyway."

No, he thinks. Not while she was with him. But that is irrational, so instead he says, "You have to be more careful, not just with your life, but with the Force. What if this was a trap?"

"It wasn't."

He can't believe her foolishness. She is supposed to be the wiser of the two of them. She is supposed to be the one who is right. He thinks he can feel his left eye twitching. "What if it was? What if next time it is? You can't just charge head first every time you feel a pull."

"You're being paranoid.” This she says in a mutter, as if she isn’t quite sure she wants him to hear.

He does hear, but still he asks, "What?"

"You're being paranoid!" She shouts it this time. "You're scared of the Force because of what it did to you, but that doesn't mean the same thing will happen to me."

"Rey..."

"Please, Ben, just trust me! I just need you to trust me."

He can’t help it anymore. Hearing the pain and confusion in her voice, he goes to her. He closes the distance between them and clasps his hands gently around her shoulders, as if he could hold her together this way. "I do..."

"No you don't." Where he expects her to lean into him, she pushes away instead. She turns her back on him, walks off toward empty desert. 

Barely remembering to signal to his shuttle ride to leave without him, he follows her. "Rey!"

She does not look back at him, so he does not call again.

It is clever, he thinks, the way her shuttle is hidden in plain sight beneath the desert stone. He doubts he would have spotted it without knowing what to look for. She lets him board with her, but she seems to be doing her best not to look at him. It is no easy feat to shove down the ache of rejection and leave her to her silence.

She walks away from him again as soon as they are docked with the Tantive, and this time he lets her go.

-

Most of the surviving members of the First Order are being transported on ships better equipped for so many prisoners, but General Niah Sloane, being their leader and having surrendered willingly, has been given the honor of a holding cell on the Tantive IV. Ben doesn't bother asking permission to see her, yet the guards let him pass without challenge. Perhaps they assume he is supposed to be there. Or perhaps, somehow, they trust him.

Niah is sitting primly on the slab of plasteel that serves as bench and bed, holding a cup of water in her hands. She looks unsurprised at Ben's appearance. "You aren't calling yourself Kylo Ren anymore," she states by way of greeting. "Remind me again, it was Solo...?"

"Ben," he answers, and for lack of a chair, he leans back against the wall across from her cell and crosses his arms. "It looks like you're being treated well."

"Better than I would be if I were a First Order prisoner. Your new allies are terribly soft."

"So far it seems to be working out for them."

"And for you," she observes. "Kylo Ren free to visit prisoners on a Resistance ship. What did you do to earn that privilege?"

"I'm useful in a fight."

"Ha." She falls silent for a moment, gazing into the empty air ahead of her. Then, a little quieter, she says, "I suppose Armitage is wandering these corridors too."

It is not one of the questions Ben had been expecting. "Hux? I thought he was dead."

Niah smirks. "Oh, they tried to execute him after his betrayal, but Armitage was always paranoid. High-grade body armor and an unidentified ally got him out alive, as far as we can gather. I do wonder where he's gone if not to you."

Why the ginger irritant would come to _him_ for refuge, Ben can hardly imagine, though the man was certainly prone to obsession. "Were you and _Armitage_ close?" He mimics her use of the former general's first name. Even now, it puts a bitter taste on his tongue.

"Not romantically, if that's what you mean." Sloane sounds mildly amused. "We were children of the First Order. I don't know that we like each other all that much, but there is sentimentality there."

"If I meet him and kill him, I'll let you know," Ben says meanly.

At this, Niah snorts. "You do that."

-

The crew of the Tantive IV remains stoic and on guard until they breach the atmosphere of Ajan Kloss, but with home in sight, that wariness ebbs rapidly, making way for an air of celebration like nothing Ben has known before. It is at once grand and disorganized, spontaneous and unanimous. As the Tantive's crew reunites with those of the other ships that have returned to the canyon base, Resistance soldiers of all ranks press together, grasping hands, clapping shoulders, pulling each other into embraces. Tears for the dead fall into mouths cheering for victory.

Where, in the First Order, work and revelry were kept strictly separate, here, somehow, they become one. Ships land and are checked for damage. Repairs that cannot wait are made. The gravely wounded are moved to the vessels with the best medical facilities, prisoners are accounted for, and then the rations and the stashes of alcohol are brought out.

Ben keeps his head down, skirting the edges of the raucous crowd or weaving through its thin points. He finds Rey working on the Falcon, perched high on top of its cockpit with her arms elbow-deep in the space where a hull plate used to be. She does not acknowledge him, so tentatively he says, "Poe asked me to make sure you ate something." When she looks down at him, he brandishes the ration bar and the cup of water he's brought, then wraps them in gentle strands of the Force and lifts them up and up until she can catch them out of the air.

"Thanks."

He can feel her standoffishness like sharp little prickles on his skin, but he presses his luck anyway. "You know this can wait. You should be celebrating with your friends."

"I'm fine." She has set the food and water down untouched and gone back to her work.

"Nobody here is fine." He almost adds 'least of all you', but he knows it's not technically true and she wouldn't want to hear it if it was.

"I want to be alone right now," she tells him without looking at him, which of course only serves to make him worry more.

"Rey, please... What can I do?"

She is still not looking at him. He can barely see her with the bulk of the Falcon between them. Still, it is as if all the galaxy has gone silent and only her voice exists when she says, "Just... Just go away. Go see if Poe needs help with anything."

He tries not to let her rejection faze him. He tries not to let his notoriously unpredictable emotions overwhelm him. For a little while, miraculously, he succeeds. "Poe's got all the help he could ask for."

"Then ask Finn."

"We need to talk about Jakku."

There is a slight pause before she says, “We'll talk later."

"Rey..."

"I said later, Ben!"

She's frustrated now. Where once he might have kept arguing, kept pushing, now he checks himself. He concedes. He tries to express his surrender to her, then he tries to say anything at all that won't antagonize her, but no words come. He walks away instead.

It is something like twenty minutes later, as he is using the Force to move heavy crates under Rose Tico's direction and trying to ignore the tipsy cheers from a nearby group of Resistance soldiers, that he hears the familiar hum of the Falcon's engines starting up.

Perhaps it is the exhaustion of the day's events catching up with him at last, but for the span of several seconds he does not understand what he is hearing. When he does, it is the shock of it, he thinks, that gives him the strength to breach that heavy, rock-like blockage Rey has built between their minds and to ask, frantic, _What are you doing?!_

She doesn't seem surprised to have him in her head again. Maybe, after all, it was not his doing but her own will that let him in. _I just need to be alone._

A dozen half-formed arguments form in his head. The one that makes it across the bond is, _That ship will fall apart around you!_

_No it won't. I'll be fine._

The anger that has smoldered since she left him in battle fills his chest now and presses to escape in desperate words, cruel words, anything to make her stay, but he contains it, just barely, because she deserves better than that.

The mental door, the blockage, the cave-in is sealing itself up again. Apparently she has deemed his lack of immediate answer as an end to the conversation. 

Cut off from that too-brief reconnection, Ben is abruptly aware again of the physical space he inhabits. The crate he had been lifting is on the ground. The cheers have stopped. Rose is talking softly to him, asking something, but he has not heard her. Rey is leaving, flying away, her mind locked to him, their shared soul firmly divided, and he makes himself stand there and let it happen.

If this is what she needs… if it is what will make her happy, then Ben will do it. Anything for her, he had promised himself. If she needs space, even a galaxy's worth of it, then he will give that to her. He will give her the galaxy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .... Just a reminder, this WILL have a happy, romantic ending. Barring my death or severe brain damage, I promise to get them there eventually.
> 
> Thanks for reading this far.


End file.
